


Comfortember 2020

by PineconeTrinklebriar



Series: Nightlights [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:40:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 47,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27357424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineconeTrinklebriar/pseuds/PineconeTrinklebriar
Summary: [Another month of daily prompts because, apparently, I can't get enough! These are one-shots set in the Nightlights universe that may or may not be totally on point with the challenge. Listen, we're all just doing our best here.]You're a mage with a weird ability: you can sense magic not made by the soul. Beings without souls, called alliumedes, threaten the delicate balance of monster/human relations on the surface, not to mention innocent lives. That's where you and your team come in; you are the Paranormal Security division of the Embassy. You, Mutt, and Sans unite with other members of the skeleton family to ward off the threats that most people don't even know exist.
Relationships: Papyrus (Underfell)/Papyrus (Underswap), Reader/Sans (SwapFell), Sans (Undertale)/Sans (Underfell)
Series: Nightlights [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994629
Comments: 122
Kudos: 37
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	1. Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> Check out series notes for inspiration on character personalities and world-building!

“Sans?”

Sans hadn’t stopped working when he answered your phone call; he’d simply shifted the phone to his shoulder and continued type, type, typing away on the  _ very late file _ he was working on. Stretch was in the hospital again, so Edge was at his side, which Sans supported fully but that meant he was doing Edge’s job and his and had been for a week now. When he heard how you said his name, though, he immediately stopped typing and held his phone up to his ear canal, giving you his full attention. “What’s the matter?” he demanded. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you said, but your voice definitely begged to differ.

“Love…”

“I shouldn’t of called. I know you’re busy, but I can’t reach anyone else!”

“I always want you to call me,” Sans said honestly. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s just…” you sniffled, which made Sans’s soul flip the hell out. You rarely cried when he could hear you, when anyone could hear you, and you were calling him crying now.

“Just tell me where you are,” he said.

“You shouldn’t have to leave work for this.”

“It’s important to you. You’re upset. I’m leaving. I _want_ to leave. The only question is how long I will have to teleport around the city until I find you.” 

“I’m at home. Out in the woods by the big pine tree,” you sniffled.

“That’s only three teleports from my office,” he informed you. “I’ll be there in five minutes.” He hung up the phone briskly, already calling for Thomas. 

Exactly five minutes later, after handing his responsibilities off to his assistant to shuffle for him, he found you in your yard standing beside the large pine tree. Your eyes were wet and your nose was red, a clear indicator that he was right about you crying. He strode forward and yanked you into his arms, scanning the area for danger automatically. One doesn't survive Swapfell by not double-checking an area for danger after all. He didn’t sense any magic except for yours, no other souls anywhere nearby. Either your upset was unrelated to danger or it was the result of an alliumede. “What is it?” he asked, trying to inject as much concern and understanding as he could into his voice.

“It’s dumb.”

“I very seriously doubt that. But I can’t know unless you tell me.”

“Okay…” You pulled away from him and led him past the tree. “Look.” You gestured to something in the distance, something small on the ground. He squinted at it, but he couldn’t tell much more than that.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s… It’s a baby bird! I found… I found a dead bird by it and it was crying, but it won’t let me get near it! It’ll die out here and I’ll know and I just.. I can’t leave it alone, Sans,” you cried out. You looked away from him, fresh tears falling down your cheeks. You wiped your nose on your sleeve and crossed your arms, pointedly leaning away from him like you expected him to scold you. As if he would. You lived in a beautiful natural forest, but you didn’t respond well to dead animals. Any time you found one, you called a skeleton and they came over to get rid of it for you. He wasn’t surprised that you were upset. How long had you been out here in the November chill, chasing a baby bird through the forest? What had you been doing when you came out here to find the little bird family? Whatever it was, it made his soul flutter with delight at the idea of how kind you were. Most would write off a lone baby bird, but you were out here trying desperately to help it, to the point where you called him at work in your desperation.

Just when he thought it was impossible to be more in love with you.

He stepped forward and pulled you into his arms again, kissing the top of your head lightly. “I’m glad you called me,” he said honestly.

“But you’re so busy and I--”

“I am _never_ too busy to help you--" he interrupted you, but you interrupted him right back.

"Except during Paperwork-Palooza," you said.

"Well. That's! I! Have to do paperwork sometime! But if you needed me, even during Paperwork-Palooza, I would be there for you. I will _always_ be here for you, my dear."

You sniffled again and buried your face in his suit coat. "Man, I just like you so much," you told him softly. "Are you sure I'm not bothering you? It's just a bird."

"You could never bother me, love. I always want to help you. And right now, you need help saving a bird’s life. I assume you want me to teleport over and catch it so we can take it inside to safety?” You nodded mutely, then reached up and kissed him. When you drew back, you looked up at him with soft eyes. “Thank you for not thinking I’m dumb,” you said softly.

“With a reward like that? I’d be a fool to think that,” Sans said jokingly.

You released him and he shifted his attention back to the bird. The little thing was a dingy gray color with weird yellow-ish stringy feathers coming off of it. Its body was wrinkled, but it had oddly thick legs. Looking at it, Sans really considered for the first time how closely related to dinosaur birds were. This thing looked like it would grow up to disembowel cows if it ever got the chance.

He observed exactly where the scraggly little thing was before stepping into (and then back out of) the void. He scooped it up before it could hop away, mindful of his sharp claws that were only shielded from the delicate beast by his gloves. “I got it!” he called out to you. 

“Yay!” you called back. You approached him and he tilted his hands so you could see the little bird. You leaned over it and cooed at it for a few minutes. “I’m so sorry about your momma,” you said softly. “My parents are gone too, and so are the cats’ parents.”

“And mine,” Sans added.

“Actually, and all of the skeletons’ parents. You’re in good company, little guy.”

“Okay,” he said, “we caught it. What are we doing with it?”

The way your head snapped up when he said that told him you hadn’t thought about that at all. He chuckled a little, because of course you called him from work without considering what you would actually do with the bird once he caught it for you.

“My mom used to have an owl,” you said slowly. “Maybe… Maybe there’s still a cage in the basement?”

Sans nodded and let you catch his arm so he could teleport you home.

***

A few hours later, Sans was on your couch with you eating take out. Mutt was sprawled out in your recliner shoveling noodles into his mouth (where he learned his manners, Sans would never know, because it _certainly_ wasn’t from him). Sans noticed that you weren’t eating, just staring at the little bird. The three of you agreed to bring the bird out into the living room where you could all watch the cats interact with it. Sans had his blue magic at the ready in case he had to rip the cats away from the little bird, but so far everyone was getting along. In fact, the little bird seemed to have lost all fear of you and never had any fear of the cats to begin with. It was hopping around the room, nipping at the cats. The cats didn’t retaliate; they only batted at it gently, raising a soft mew when you didn’t explain the newcomer to them.

Your group spent the evening that way, checking on the bird, absently eating dinner, and watching the new Simon Pegg movie. You eventually took your eyes off the bird and Sans coaxed you into eating some dinner. By the end of the movie, you were snuggled against him on one side with his brother snoring on his other side. His soul warmed at the idea that he was here at all; probably if you hadn’t called him, he would still be at the office frantically working. His work was important, of course it was, but he couldn’t deny how nice it was to be sitting with his datemate and his brother. No one was in danger, no evils needed slaying. Your biggest problem was whether or not the cats would eat a bird you found in the forest, and that was absurd and beautiful.

Plus, based on the purring pile of cats surrounding a happily sleeping little bird, he was pretty confident that you didn’t have to worry about the cats turning the bird into a snack any time soon.


	2. Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Team Lazy Skeletons embark on a culinary journey together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried making homemade spaghetti sauce. It is an EXPERIENCE y'all.

**1:00 p.m.**

You stood over your small, grumpy army wielding your wooden spoon and apron like a proud general. You paced back and forth through the kitchen, smacking the spoon against the palm of your hand. “We can do this!” you exclaimed. “We are strong, smart, and independent! There is no reason we can’t make this happen!”

“What if we don’ wanna make this happen?” Red grumbled, and you spun on him and pointed the spoon into his face. You were really banking on him not just, like, biting it in half.

“You do wanna do this, Red! This is for Edge!” you gestured to the rest of your group. “This is for all of your brothers! They all went to that conference and we are going to make them dinner! They will be tired and hungry and we can do this for them!”

“Seems like more of a punishment than a lovin’ gesture,” Stretch pointed out. “None of us are good cooks, darlin’.”

“There are at least 10 collective Phds in this room! We can figure out how to make spaghetti, garlic bread, and a goddamn pie!” You took a deep breath, regrouping. “I found us recipes, I got all of the ingredients, and I brought over my pans and stuff so we don’t have to worry about messing up Sans’s good stuff. Let’s do this!”

Everyone grumbled but gathered around your computer to read the recipe anyway. “It says this takes like two hours,” Stretch pointed out, gesturing frantically at the spaghetti sauce recipe.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re starting in the afternoon,” you told him.

“But that’s so long! When will I nap?”

“Stop whining!” you hissed. “You’re doubly invested in this; Blue is your brother and Edge is your husband. Now, you’re on onion duty!” You shoved Stretch towards an onion and a cutting board. You waited just long enough to make sure he picked up a knife before turning back to the recipe. “Who wants to peel the tomatoes?” you asked cheerfully.

“How… How do ya peel ‘em?” Comic asked slowly. 

You blinked at him. “You don’t know how to peel tomatoes?”

“Don’t even start,” Red said. “There’s no way you know how either.”

Fair point; you didn’t know how to peel tomatoes. So, “Look up a YouTube video, dude.”

“Or, and this’s jus’ an idea,” Mutt said, “we could _not_ do this. We could jus’ get ‘em take out.”

“ _We. Are. Doing. This_.” You shoved Comic over to the table and slapped a random phone that you found there (maybe Mutt’s?) into his hand. “Find a tutorial. Red, you’re gathering all the spices and shit. Get ‘em in a bowl and measured.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Mutt, help him.”

“Sounds like ya don’ got a job for me,” Mars said with a shrug. “Too bad.” 

You laughed, a slightly malicious and hysterical high-pitched laugh that would have made you wince if you weren’t so focused on not losing your goddamn mind. “You’re on garlic bread duty.” You held out the large knife for slicing the loaf in half.

Mars looked down at the knife for a second, then grinned at you and took it. You gave him a little bow of thanks and then turned your attention to the pie recipe. This was going to be fine.

**1:35 p.m.**

This was not fine. Who knew that tomatoes were so freaking hard to work with? Red and Mutt were now watching the tutorial video too, having successfully spilled spices all over the kitchen. “So we jus’ put it in the boilin’ water for…?” Comic began, leaning over the pot carefully holding two tomatoes.

“Twenty seconds,” Mutt said at the exact same time that Red said, “Thirty seconds.”

“Which is it?” Comic asked, his voice pitching towards panic.

You looked up from onion duty--Stretch was pulled off of it the third time he drew marrow nicking a phalange--and wiped the tears from your eyes. “Just do 25,” you suggested.

Three skeletons looked at you like you’d just suggested eating a baby instead of spaghetti. “You’re jokin’,” Red said.

“What?”

“You wan’ us to do this or not? You know how much a difference between five seconds can make in a lab? Only takes one sec of exposure to plutonium to kill ya,” Red said.

“This isn’t a lab. This is a kitchen.”

“You wan’ our help or not?”

What you wanted was to bang your head against the counter for the next 12 hours, but you figured that wasn’t gonna get this sauce made. “Then rewatch the video. Seriously, you’re all supposed to be geniuses.” The last part was muttered under your breath, though you had no doubt that they heard it.

**1:45 p.m.**

“Maybe it was 30 seconds,” Mutt said, looking over the tomatoes in their ice bath. “This don’ look easier to peel.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you said, sliding the last of the onion into the huge pan on the stove. “Okay, Stretch, you’re back in the game. Now, you just watch these onions and stir them every so often. Let me know when they’re translucent.” You handed Stretch a spoon and walked around him to check out the tomato situation.

“Translucent?” Stretch said, eyeing the onions doubtfully.

“That’s what the recipe says.”

“All of ‘em?”

“Uh…” You did a short stint as a teacher, back when you decided to give the Oregon Trail a try. You learned a few things during that adventure (like that kids might not be for you and teaching definitely wasn’t for you) but the most important thing you learned was that you can’t show them fear. Stretch was awful big to be a kid, sure, but you were pretty sure that the same concept applied. “Yes. All of them,” you decided. Worst case scenario, you just stopped him early? Maybe?

“You know,” Comic said, drawing your attention back to The Tomato Problem, “my bro just punches ‘em.”

“Your bro’s spaghett also tastes like burnt feet,” Mutt said.

“You’re just jealous.”

“How though? What could I possibly be jealous of in this scenario?” 

“No one’s jealous,” you interrupted. “And we are peeling tomatoes!” You shouldered your way up to them and plunged your hands into the ice bath to grab one of the tomatoes. You’d never peeled them either but you did hear the YouTube video that Comic played like seven times, so you knew to flip it over and peel starting at the little X you cut in the bottom.

Surprisingly, the skin came off pretty easily. A few swipes and you had one de-skinned tomato. “Cool,” you said happily. “Here, everyone’s peeling a mater.”

“But the onions!” Stretch cried weakly. 

You traded him a tomato for the spoon then shoved a tomato into Mars’s suspiciously empty claws. The other three reluctantly picked one up too and looked at you. You grabbed another one and demonstrated, grinning as they tried to follow along. Their claws weren’t great for delicately peeling off a tomato skin, but you were still relatively pleased with the outcome. You ignored that Mars darted around collecting the skins. He stuck them in his inventory and you silently wondered what he was going to do with them, but you didn’t mind him taking them. Obviously. You gave the onions a stir and asked, “Okay, what’s next?”

“We gotta ‘seed an’ dice ‘em’,” Red said, blinking at the recipe. “How the hell do we do that?”

Comic grinned and waved the phone. “I bet there’s an app for that.”

**2:15 p.m.**

“WHY THE HELL ARE THESE SEEDS SO DAMN HARD TA GET OUT?” Red screamed. You supposed you would have been irritated by his outburst, but frankly, you felt the same way. You were huddled over the only “bowl with strainer” you’d been able to scrounge up, also trying to get all of the seeds out of the tomatoes without, like, destroying the tomatoes.

“Edge does this every time he makes lasagna?” Stretch asked in disgust, absently flicking tomato muck into the garbage. Even Mars didn’t seem inclined to try to save any of the muck. He was watching over the onions; he was removed from tomato duty after skewering one mater too many trying to get the innards out. 

“Never hated a fruit,” Mutt said philosophically. “Never gave a shit about fruits. But ya know what? I hate this fruit.”

“That ain’t  _ berry _ nice, Mutt,” Comic said with a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah, you better be-leaf that fruits think you’re a fine-apple,” Stretch said, matching Comic’s grin.

“Pun ain’t even funny right now,” Red mourned. “Devil fruits even took that from me.”

**2:45 p.m.**

“FINALLY!” Red yelled, dropping the last de-seeded tomato onto the cutting board. “Lemme dice these fuckers.”

You looked from him to the tomatoes. “If you screw it up you’ll have to redo it all yourself. All of them,” you warned.

Red grinned maliciously. “Don’ worry. Dicin’ I can do.”

**3:00 p.m.**

“I oughta make you do another tomato just from the amount you got around the kitchen,” you said irritably as you picked a tomato chunk out of your hair. 

“Listen, they’re diced,” Red said, dumping most of the tomato into the pan.

“You’re on clean up duty,” you growled at him. “This kitchen will be pristine by the time Sans gets here. Pristine, Red.”

“Come on--”

“No! You will clean this damn kitchen! There will be no tomato chunks! Anywhere!” You paused as Mars picked another chunk out of your hair, sniffed it, and ate it. “Mars will help you,” you added. “Don’t pick and eat things out of my hair like a weird forest chimp.”

“What’s simmerin’?” Stretch called from his spot hunched over the recipe. “We’re supposed to simmer it.”

“Uh… It’s like boiling, but less serious,” you said.

“Does it take a lid?”

“A… Lid?”

“Yeah. I dunno. Seems like Edge puts a lotta lids on stuff. Do we need a lid?”

You looked at Stretch and blinked a few times. Mutt laughed. “That’s the sound o’ us lookin’ up another tutorial,” he said.

**3:14 p.m.**

“They don’t even make tutorials about just simmering,” you groaned. “How… How does one learn to simmer if the internet won’t even tell you?”

“I think it’s kinda a prerequisite for goin’ in a kitchen,” Mutt said.

“Wait,” Mars said from the floor where he was scrubbing up tomato juice, “ain’t you like four centuries old or somethin’? How do ya not know how to simmer?”

“Aren’t you also like four hundred years old or something?” you spat back. “You don’t know how to simmer either!”

“I lived Underground. During a famine,” Mars pointed out.

“I! Well!” you balled up your fists. “I rejected traditional gender norms! And no mages taught me much of anything after…” You trailed off and looked down at the counter pointedly.

A gentle hand patted your shoulder and you looked up to see Mutt grinning down at you. “‘S fine,” he said. “We’ll jus’ boil it, but less serious, like ya said. An’ the recipe don’ say nothin’ about putting a lid on it, so we won’.”

“It has to simmer for two hours,” Stretch said.

“Two hours?” Red groaned. “We’re gonna die here.”

“An’ they’re supposed to be back at five,” Comic pointed out.

“Uh…” you said. You felt a little disappointment well up in your gut. It was fine; none of you usually ate that early. You could find something to do for a bit. 

Mars interrupted your downward spiral of thought. “Don’ even worry ‘bout it,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll take care of it.”

**5:17 p.m.**

The house actually smelled pretty good. The noodles were boiling nicely with Comic watching over them. You set up a guard rotation over the sauce to make sure it didn’t burn. It was Red’s turn and he stood over it solemnly. Mars just pulled the garlic bread out of the oven (without gloves!) and Stretch was watching the pie cool. You took a deep breath and looked down at yourself. You were covered in tomato chunks, flour from the pie, and you smelled like onion. Attractive, as always, but at least you were going to have a successful dinner. You felt pride in your little troupe well in your soul.

**5:20 p.m.**

“Red, you’re literally an engineer!” you moaned as Red managed to not figure out the food processor. 

“It jus’ won’ start,” he said.

“It has to! Otherwise, this sauce isn’t… Sauce. It’s warm salsa!”

“Maybe try explainin’ that to the food processor!” Red snarled.

“Ok, we’re all gonna calm down now!” Comic said, sliding between you and Red. “I’ll take a turn lookin’ at the processor.”

Red muttered to himself, but slid out of the way and let Comic take a look. You didn’t miss the way Red’s finger ran along the velvety collar around Comic’s neck as he passed. Despite how annoying Red was, it made your cold dark soul thrum at the idea that touching the collar that he gave Comic helped to calm him down. It was cute, too cute to apply to Red.

“Ya don’ have the little slot in the right place,” Mutt said.

“What’s that, trash bag?” Red asked. Well, one collar feel couldn’t fix everything after all. 

“You don’... Jus’ lemme see,” Mutt said, pushing past Comic to grab the small machine. He fiddled a bit and then pressed the button on the back. You couldn’t help but clap for him a little bit when the thing started whirring!

“How’d ya--” Red began, but Mutt cut him off by turning up the processor as soon as he started talking. He waited a second and then turned it back down. “Very fun--” Red began again, only to be interrupted again by a smirking Mutt.

“He’s gonna kill you!” you yelled over the processor, but Mutt just laughed.

“She’s right. I am gonna--” WHIIIIIIRRRRRR. “ARGH!”

**5:29 p.m.**

“Why’s it… orange?” Mutt asked in what he probably thought was a neutral voice. You looked at the line of sauce jars on the counter, each a dark orange close to the shade of Jupiter’s magic. 

“I don’t knooooow,” you whined in despair, laying your head on the counter. “We followed all of the directions!”

“Maybe it was 30 seconds,” Mutt said and you moaned. 

“We literally worked on this for _four hours!_ Is it even edible?”

“Four and a half,” Mars said, “an’ it tastes fine ta me.”

You glanced over and saw that his teeth were stained orange and one of the jars was empty. “Did you just drink that?” you asked, not bothering to mask your horror.

Mars shrugged. “Tasted fine.”

“No offense, buddy, but I don’ really trust your taste,” Comic said, clapping Mars on the back.

Mars shrugged again and began trying to get the sauce left in the jar out with his phalanges. You rolled your eyes and turned back to the issue of orange sauce. “What’re we gonna do?” you asked pitifully.

“What are we going to do about what, love?”

You jumped a mile into the air at the sound of Sans’s voice. Everyone in the kitchen had their magic called up and it was only the high level of control each of them had that saved Sans from having to remodel his kitchen. “Nothing!” you said as you frantically tried to hide the sauce from him.

“Ya didn’ stop at the store with the others?” Mars asked behind you, and you would’ve kissed him for the distraction if his teeth weren’t still orange. And the love of your life wasn’t staring at the both of you. And you, like, didn’t like him.

“Hmm…? Oh, no, I drove separately because I needed to stop by the Embassy on the way. Now, what are you all doing here anyway?”

“Nothing!” you tried again. You probably deserved the look that Sans gave you. You sighed and stepped aside so that Sans could see your collection of weird sauce. “It’s supposed to be spaghetti sauce,” you told him miserably. “We made it all fresh as a surprise.”

Sans chuckled and inspected the jars. “Since you all made dinner, please allow me to set the table,” he said at last. “And one of you should probably text Edge. I think he’s planning on just dropping off the others and heading home.”

He bustled past you and pulled open the cabinet, digging out enough plates for your large family. You followed him into the dining room awkwardly. “Wait, shouldn’t we order something or something?” you asked.

“Why would we do that?”

“Because… the spaghetti sauce is orange? Babe, I’m not a cook but I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be red.”

Sans laughed. “It is perfectly fine for it to be orange. Homemade sauce often comes out a different color than store bought.”

“But--”

Sans shushed you with a quick kiss. “But nothing. I am sure your sauce is lovely and I am excited to try it. Now, head back into the kitchen and get your chefs to start bringing out the food.” You blinked at him in surprise until he gave you a gentle push back towards the kitchen. 

You shoved your way through the swinging door and smiled at your little team. They each looked awkward and worried in their own way. “Sans says it’s fine for it to be orange,” you said with a grin. “He said to bring it all out.”

“You sure he ain’t jus’ tryin’ to get in your pants?” Red asked.

Comic smacked him in the back of the head. “ _Red_! Black doesn’t have to lie about sauce to make _that_ happen!”

“Hey!” you said. “Could we stop talking about my pants please? I’d hate to have to kill you all after we had such a nice day.”

**5:48 p.m.**

“Sans! I brought all of the cupcakes I could find for your emergency, though I am pretty sure you just told me that as a jape,” Jupiter said as he burst into the house. Edge, Blue, and Papyrus trailed behind him a bit.

“We heard that you were all over here bonding together!” Papyrus said happily. “I am happy that everyone had such a wonderful day of bonding!”

“What’s this?” Edge asked, gesturing to the table.

“This crew made us dinner tonight!” your Sans said with a proud smile. “We have spaghetti, garlic bread, and pie for dessert.” 

“Really?” Blue asked, his eyes flashing into stars. “Wowie, this is nice!”

Everyone made their way to the table cautiously, taking the seats that everyone always did at family dinners. Papyrus grabbed the spaghetti and scooped some out on his plate. “Oh!” he said with a smile, “what a lovely and unique sauce color!”

You shot Sans a dirty look but he just smiled at you serenely and took your hand. “That happens with homemade sauce,” he pointed out.

“Yes, yes,” Blue said agreeably.

“It’s quite a lot of work to make homemade sauce,” Edge said slowly. Stretch beamed at him and they threaded their fingers together.

“It is!” Papyrus agreed. “That’s why I always just use store-bought.”

The sharp intake of breath around the table should’ve been enough to turn the room into the vacuum of space. Your crew all tried to speak at once and Team Not Lazy Bros all began laughing. You turned to Sans in horror. “You do store-bought sauce?”

“Well, of course I do, my dear,” he said, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his cheeks. “It’s so time-consuming to make homemade sauce! And so much more expensive! You can get a jar at the store for three dollars!”

Stretch ripped back his hand and looked at Edge like he’d just admitted he was having an affair. “Et tu, Edge?”

“Me too,” Edge said, and any fool could see he was trying to keep a straight face. “I’m sorry, Rus; that’s why this is so special! You all worked so hard!” He grabbed Stretch’s hand again and kissed him on the knuckles, near his wedding band.

“For what it’s worth,” Jupiter said, “I also agree that this is lovely.”

You sighed and allowed Sans to plant a kiss on the top of your head. “Next time we’re ordering pizza,” you said.

He laughed and plucked a tomato out of your hair. “Whatever you say, dear.”


	3. Emotional Support/Therapy Animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphys never liked animals, not when they could see the sins crawling on her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written Alphys before and I can't say I love how I did it this time, but I wanted to give it a shot!
> 
> TW: VERY brief mention of killing animals for experiments

Alphys really didn’t care for animals. She wanted to like them, she really did, they were so cute, but they always seemed to dislike her, like they could sense her nervousness around them. A part of her wondered if they knew how many of their brethren she’d killed in the name of science, could still feel the necks of the mice breaking while she worked…

She tried not to think about it. 

But that wasn’t true of  _ your bird _ . Somehow, you rescued a beautiful pigeon, a small thing that was more than happy to run around with your cats but would also rest on your shoulder while you worked on potions in your library. That’s how Alphys met Danny Butterman, actually. It took her weeks to work up the courage to ask you if she could talk to you about potions after the Dr. Hueline Incident, but you’d been _so nice_ about it. You invited her to come to your library so you could show her your set up and, to her surprise, you answered the door with the little bird on your shoulder.

“I-I-I thought you had cats,” she’d stuttered when she saw it. She regretted it instantly; how could you have a bird if you had cats? Stupid, stupid, stupi--

Your laugh had interrupted her spiral. “I do,” you told her, leading her to the library. “Butters thinks he’s one of ‘em.” 

While the two of you worked, Danny Butterman The Pigeon jumped from your shoulder to hers, somehow not even minding that Alphys was a stuttering, animal murdering  _ mess _ . He’d simply perched on her pink sweater (not the lab coat, she couldn’t be sure you weren’t terrified of lab coats now) and cooed a soft song. 

The two of you kept working together for weeks, months… And Danny Butterman always jumped to her when she got there. He always seemed to know who she was and he somehow  _ liked _ her. When you invited her to stay for dinner (not instant noodles, but _homemade ravioli_ that Black made for the two of you) and watch anime, the bird nestled in her lap and  _ stayed _ .

Which, maybe, is how Alphys found herself on your doorstep in the rain, crying and knocking on the door after a fight with Undyne. It was _her fault_ , she was _stupid_ , she would _never_ be strong enough for Undyne, why would Undyne ever really love _her_ , how could she, not after what she did--

You opened the door, worry on your face. Alphys could hear the sounds of skeletons in your living room; perhaps it was your turn to host movie night? She knew she should leave, but you led her to the library, to one of your comfortable armchairs, and wrapped a fluffy blanket around her shoulders. You disappeared and reappeared with Danny Butterman, plopping him into her lap.

You did a lot of other good things that night, too--didn’t let Sans or Papyrus up to check on her, answered her phone when Undyne called, lent her a dry sweatshirt--but Alphys was most grateful to be allowed to pet that little bird that seemed to like her _no matter what_.


	4. Afraid to Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans isn't feeling so well. Red doesn't handle it great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naming convention note: Most of the time, "Sans" is Swapfell Sans (Reader's boyfriend), but the reader and Mutt are the only ones who call him Sans and Undertale Sans "Comic". Everyone else calls Swapfell Sans "Black" and Undertale Sans "Sans". This chapter is the first I've written from Comic's viewpoint, so he (and everyone else) is referring to him when he says "Sans". Look, I can't just be normal about all this.
> 
> TW: Mentions of illness, mentions of vomiting,

Sans ( ~~not _Comic_ , damn it, he was the original, no matter what _you_ insisted on calling Black~~) felt like death warmed over and damn if even with being part of the Low HP Brotherhood it hadn’t been a long, long time since he felt this shitty.

It was a fever, probably, that started as a basic cold and ramped up when he didn’t get enough sleep during the whole shitstorm that was the month of October in the Embassy. Now? Now, he barely knew his name (but it wasn’t fucking _Comic_ , he could tell you that much, that much for sure) and the whole world was an icebox that was somehow also burning with freezing fire.

He was supposed to be at the Embassy, he remembered vaguely, doing something, but he didn’t know what it was, and even if he did, he sure as shit couldn’t get himself there. Didn’t have a car, not safe to drive if he did, shortcuts broken by the damn fever, couldn’t get to the bus, couldn’t call… Who? Was there anyone to call? Fuck if he knew. Was Paps in this country today? What day was it? What  _ month _ ? He realized he’d puked when he felt wetness on his skull and it wasn’t  _ sweat _ . 

He felt sleep dragging him down, but his soul fought like a caged beast. If he slept he’d die, he knew it, _it wasn’t safe, the flower, where was Paps, where was Red, where…_

***

Red was pissed and that was putting it mildly. Sans, his lazy-ass collared idiot, wasn’t here. He was supposed to be here, taking one of the two very important security meetings that were happening at the same time because Red was surrounded by goddamn baby children. He knew he shoulda drug the blue bastard outta bed by his cervical vertebrae and drug him to the Embassy with him when he came to work, but the fool’d been so _tired_ lately. Hell, he looked worse than Red did and that was sayin’ somethin’, what with Red havin’ a million people to keep alive lately. So he let him sleep, and now he was payin’ for it by havin’ to call in Paps ( ~~not Paps, Edge, not Paps in years~~ ) to take one of his damn meetings. 

Red hated that blank disappointed look. Seen it plenty when he woke up at his sentry station in Underfell, thanks; he didn’t need it reminding him what a fuck up he was in this universe, too. Especially since this wasn’t _his_ fuck up unless you counted hiring and collaring someone just as lazy as he was. The instant the pot-bellied human male left his office, Red was shortcutting home with every intention of kicking Sans’s coccyx the whole way to the Embassy.

“Sans!” he hollered, sounding for all the world like his bro in Underfell, as he stomped up the stairs. It didn’t filter into his brain that the lights were still off, that the house was still quiet, that there was a burnt smell from the kitchen where he’d left coffee for Sans when he got up. It was all lost behind a veil of hot anger.

He threw open the door to the bedroom, relishing in the clattering of it slamming into the drywall. He opened his mouth to holler at the pile of blankets in the bed but stopped when he saw a blue puddle on the floor by the bed. _The fuck…?_ He stalked closer to investigate and felt all o’ that hot anger turn to freezing terror when he realized it was puke. Skeletons didn’t puke, not unless they were in a real bad way. He didn’t think he’d _ever_ puked without some kinda drug influence an’ Sans was just lying there, hadn’t even moved when he’d slammed the door open.

A quick check showed that Sans’s too-low HP had dropped a coupla points, his flavor text warning he felt like he was gonna die, and Red was crawling into the bed and pulling out his phone without thinkin’. He pulled Sans up against his chest, soul beating wildly when the other didn’t stir at the movement and called in a ringer. His bro was at work, couldn’ heal worth shit, had no reason to be the first number he dialed, but he couldn’ help it. 

“Brother?” Edge asked, and Red would’ve had to be deaf and stupid to not hear the note of concern under his bro’s patented calm.

“Sans,” Red croaked.

“Sans?” Edge asked, more confused and worried now. Prob’ly wonderin’ if Red suddenly wanted to be called by his old name now like Black, and wouldn’ that be a clusterfuck at the Embassy. How many Sanses can you have in security before there are too many? 

_ Hopefully not one less. _

“‘E’s real sick. I… I dunno what to do. I need ‘elp. Please, Paps. _Please_.”

“Call Blue,” Edge said. “I’m on my way, but Blue is closer and a far better healer. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” The line went dead and Red stared at it for a second before Edge’s orders filtered in. Call Blue. He could call Blue. Blue could heal.

He answered after it’d barely rang once. The confusion and concern in his voice prob’ly would’ve amused Red at another time, but it didn’ even reach his consciousness now. He explained, probably not good, but good enough that Blue understood to come over ready to heal.

Edge had to peel Red off of his collared, had to hold him down while Blue pumped healing into him and Sans garbled and cried out on the bed, puking again, before falling too still. A check showed his HP was back up, he was gonna be ok, he was. Papyrus--Sans’s Papyrus, the original--showed up and helped Edge clean up while Blue rested. Finally, finally, finally they let him crawl back into the newly dolled-up bed with Sans. Papyrus and Blue went home, but Edge told him curtly that he would be in the guest room and to get him if anything changed that night, but that he would be ok, this was ok, Red was ok.

Red lay beside Sans and watched him breathe, checked him over and over, waited for the other shoe to drop. Red wasn’t a good skeleton. Red had never been a good skeleton, not here, not in Underfell. He raised a good bro and somehow collared a good monster, but he had no illusions about what he did and did not deserve. He was a Judge and if anyone knew about Justice, it was him. He got Paps secreted off with Stretch so maybe the Universe wouldn’t take him, but now he had Sans, didn’t he? And bein’ someone Red loved wasn’t good for life expectancy, not when the Universe existed solely to fuck him over.

He didn’t sleep that night, didn’t know if he’d sleep again ever. He laid still and waited, waited to see Sans’s eye lights again, to know he was ok. Paps said he would be, and Red’s bro didn’ lie, not to him. He would be ok. Paps said so.

But Red didn’t sleep.


	5. Cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are 49 minutes late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Sans comes off as pretty possessive here, but I'm all about healthy relationships. This is him worried and anxious and the reader checking in if she's late is her choice a way to be considerate of his triggers. I know that's a pretty popular trope in the fandom, but I want to make sure we're all on the same page about this here relationship.

Sans was very proud of his extremely firm grasp of time. At nearly any moment, without so much glancing at a clock, he could tell you to nearly the second what time it was. It was a gift, he always said, but tonight it felt like a curse. For the first time, he understood that stupid line from your favorite detective show, the one with the psychic, because his understanding of the flow of time was definitely a curse tonight.

You were exactly 49 minutes late.

You knew how crazy protective he was and you strove to never be late, certainly  _ never _ without letting him know, and you were  _ late _ . He was all too aware of how quickly your little body could be drained of blood, a symptom of spending so much time at the hospital with the Horrorfell brothers. It had been nearly an hour since you were due home and he knew how few minutes it would take to kill you.

His claw twitched towards his phone, the quiet, logical voice in his skull whispering that he needed to calm down, that using the tracker like this would only upset you. Sure, you knew about it, that was the deal after all and he didn’t lie to you anymore, but he still hesitated. What if you thought he didn’t trust you again? What if… What if it showed him that you really were dead somewhere? He couldn’t… That… 

He picked up the phone and his finger hovered over his brother’s number, then Edge’s, then Mars’s, his brain frantically arguing over who would be the least traumatized by finding your body for him. Edge and Mars could handle it certainly, but that’s not what you would want. You would want… Well, you’d want him, right?

Right?

His phalange pressed the tracker app and he blinked as it showed a very familiar neighborhood…

His door opened and you walked in, face pale and worried. You caught sight of him and swept towards him throwing yourself into his arms. 

He caught you like he’d done it every day of his life, like he could do it in his sleep, because he could and he hadn’t done it every day yet, but gods he wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” you said into his shoulder, and he scooped you up and carried you to the couch. He adjusted you so that you were comfortable in his lap, snagged the blanket from the back of the couch that he kept there just for you, and tucked it around the both of you. He ghosted little kisses against your forehead, your cheeks, your hair.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, finally looking up. He forced back a gasp at the bruise under your eye, swallowing down his LV. “The whole bugbear situation was a little  _ hairy-er _ than I expected.” You paused for his soft chuckle, then continued. “It jumped me; damn thing was intelligent. I had to get myself out of being chained up in its basement.”

Sans shifted and gently pulled up the sleeve of your black pullover, the one you nearly always wore on missions. Your wrists were chafed and he recognized the bruising of popping your thumbs in and out of joint to get out of the cuffs. He pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand and said softly, “Looks like you had a  _ beastly _ time.”

You laughed this time and cuddled back under the blanket and against his chest. “It wasn't _beary_ fun. I’m sorry I worried you. The thing had my phone and I didn’t realize how late it was until I was nearly here anyway.”

“As long as you always come home to me,” he said. He kissed the top of your head again and asked, “What do you need, love? Healing?”

“My own magic’ll get most of it,” you said with a shrug. “Right now can we just stay like this?”

He smiled down at you and pulled you a little closer. “Of course. Do you want some trashy reality television?”

“Fuck yes.”

“I love you,” he said, because cuddling was all well and good, but he needed you to know.

“Aw, I guess I love you, too,” you said with a grin. “Now, if you don’t put on Survivor right now I might actually stroke out.”

“That’d be a shame.” He reached for the remote and turned on the television to the episode that the two of you were on, but the survival challenges meant nothing to him, not in the light of your warm weight against him and your shaky breath on his neck.


	6. Blanket Fort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blanket forts are definitely a cute couple thing! No other reason to make one! Stop asking questions! No, you're being weird!

“I’ll get the pillows if you get the blankets.”

“But you can teleport! Can’t you just get both?”

“It’ll still take longer than if you help me gather the supplies, my dear.”

“Why can’t we make Mutt help?”

“Because this is the ‘Top 100 Activities To Do As a Couple’ list and Mutt is not a member of this couple. We would need to have a very long conversation about that if that was something you wanted.”

“Ugh. But it’s so much work.”

“I hear relationships are supposed to be work.”

“Yeah but like… You get it set up and then…? Just lay in it? That’s dumb! We could lay on the couch. Or the bed. Or, hell, the floor!”

“We can always skip it if you want to. The next item is ‘Take a hot bubble bath’.”

“If we skip it we’ll always know that we didn’t do all 100 of the things, though. Like… We’ll only have done 99 things as a couple.”

“Who is it that you think is going to care exactly?”

“Me! You! And…”

“What was that? You trailed off at the end there, love.”

“[inaudible]”

“Love, I can’t--”

“STRETCH WILL KNOW, OKAY? HAPPY NOW?”

“Pardon me, but what do you mean ‘Stretch will know’?”

“It’s just… Ugh. We made a bet; he said he could get Edge to do everything on the list with him before I could get you to do everything on the list with me.”

“... You and Stretch bet on our relationship?”

“Umm… no? Well, yes. Unless you're mad about it, then I want to go back to no.”

“What number are they on?”

“Wait. What?”

“What number are Stretch and Edge on for the list?”

“Ninety-two. Edge has been busy this week and Stretch couldn’t get him to do anything yesterday.”

“So we are winning?”

“For now, yeah.”

“Get the blankets, my dear. We are going to win this bet and prove, once and for all, that we are the superior couple. Those two cullianly barbermongers won’t know what hit them!”

“Okay, yeah, sounds good. But you’re giving the book of Shakespearean insults back to Comic. Also, did you know he might not have existed? Shakespeare, I mean, not Comic. Pretty sure Comic exists. Unless this is a hyperrealistic dream? Actually, nevermind. I don't want to think about that. Anyway, Shakespeare. He--” [inaudible]

***

Stretch turned off the living room microphone after Ellie and Black left the room. He leaned back in his chair and tee-peed his hands together in front of him. So you wanted to play dirty? Well, two can play at that game. Comic Sans ain’t the only one with Shakespearean insults at the ready, and no one was more competitive than Stretch’s baby when given the proper motivation.

As another old dead guy said, the game's afoot, and Stretch intended to win.


	7. First Day/Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has that moment where they realized they like-like someone. These are the moments that Sans and Ellie realized it. Their first day/night of having a new crush, if you will.

****ELLIE****

You frowned at your phone, then looked up at the stout brick building. The address was definitely correct; it was the one that Black sent you. Why he wanted to meet you at a middle school was beyond you, but whatever. You were mildly surprised to find the door unlocked. Weren’t schools usually locked at 5:00 on a Tuesday? You mentally shrugged and let yourself into the building.

You had no idea where to go so you stood in the center of the cross of hallways and looked around, already opening up a text to Black. Before you could hit send, you heard voices wafting down the hall and one of them had a definite “Captain of the Fucking Royal Guard” sound to it. You followed the voices down a hallway of faded red lockers to the only classroom that had lights on. You poked your head in the door and had to freeze to give your brain time to reboot at the sight that greeted you.

Black was leaned over the desk of a teenager with black jeans and gauges in his ears. The boy was tapping his pencil, impatiently not looking at Black as he talked. You internally winced, expecting the skeleton to yell at the kid, maybe even give him a smack to the back of the head, but he didn’t. He paused talking and his eye lights met the boy’s eyes. “I know that this is difficult, Trey,” Black said in that same soothing voice you remembered him using to coax you out of your car on the worst night of your life… seven months ago? Had it really been that long? You snapped back to attention when Black kept talking. “But I also know that you can do this. Don’t quit on me.”

“I’ll never get it,” the boy said petulantly. “I’m dumb, everyone knows I’m dumb.”

Black chuckled, a warm sound that you didn’t hear from him often. “I don’t tutor dumb people. That’s how I know you aren’t dumb. Now, look at this problem with me again. You can do it; it just takes some practice.” To your surprise, the kid shifted in his seat, leaned forward, and pressed his pencil to the paper. “What’s m in this one?” Black asked, gloved phalange tapping the paper.

“I dunno.”

“Sure you do. You didn’t read it. Give it a shot.”

The boy’s mouth moved as he read, but finally he mumbled, “Four?”

From the look on Black’s face, you’d have thought the kid just told him that he was going to replace Asgore as the King of All Monsters. He clapped the boy on the back. “You did it! That’s fantastic! I’m very proud of you. Try this one while I check on the others.” He moved away from the kid towards another one, this one a girl with a frankly unbelievable amount of hair. She proudly showed him her paper and he praised her, too.

_Huh_.

Your soul was doing a thing, you realized. It was like… It was like maybe Black wasn’t a giant pile of dicks all the time. ( _Not_ all _the time, no, but you knew that already, didn’t you? He’s the one that made sure you didn’t freeze to death, made sure you had a place to stay. And, no matter what the Fellverse skeletons say, you know that Oliver didn’t leave your house because he suddenly grew a_ conscience _._ )

Black looked up and saw you in the doorway. He stiffened like he’d been caught at something, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “Alright everyone,” he said, “it seems that our time is up for the evening! Remember that you can text me if you have any problems the rest of the week and I will see you next week. You all did very well today. Don’t forget that Mrs. Unger said that you have a test over slope-intercept form tomorrow!”

“See ya next week, Sans,” the boy, Trey, said. The rest of the kids chorused something similar as they slipped out of the room and into the hall. 

You waited by the door for Black to finish pushing in chairs, picking up scraps of paper, and searching for lost belongings. Finally, he slunk up to you and he looked… embarrassed(?) for some reason. “I apologize that I did not meet you out front,” he said. “I lost track of time.”

“No problem. Ya ready?”

Black nodded stiffly and the two of you turned and walked back into the hall of lockers. His hands were in his pockets and he was subtly leaning away from you.

“So you tutor middle schoolers in math?” you asked.

“I, uh, yes. I do.”

“That’s really cool of you,” you said. “I wondered about all those math shirts you have; guess you actually really like math?” You kind of thought they were gag gifts from Mutt, but...

He looked at you like you’d grown a second head, but answered, “Yes, I find numbers simpler than, eh, people.”

“I’ve never been that good at math.”

“I’m sure you could learn if you wanted to.”

“Maybe. You seemed like you were a good teacher for those kids.” You watched in fascination as a purple color crept across his face. You’d seen that enough on Stretch and Mutt to recognize it as a skeletal blush. Oh gods, was he _nervous_ about admitting that he liked math? About being good with middle schoolers? You felt your soul soften even more. 

_Shit_.

“Uh,” you said, grasping for conversation topics and landing on, “so they call you Sans.”

“Ye-yes,” he stammered. Then he continued, quietly as if he was confessing something. “I… I sometimes miss my name.” He didn’t look up at you, looking for all the world like a child that knew he was about to get in trouble. “I agreed to go by Black, of course, but it’s… Ah. It was my name for a very long time and the children are unlikely to ever meet Sans.”

You felt yourself grin. “Okay, well, that makes perfect sense to me, Sans.”

~~Black~~ Sans stopped walking and gaped at you. “You don’t need to--”

“I’m going to call you Sans,” you interrupted, “unless you don’t want me to?”

“No, it’s… That’s… It is acceptable.” He pushed the door to the school open and the two of you stepped out into the cool air and he pulled his jacket tighter around himself, still blushing that pretty purple color.

_ Pretty? _

“What will you call the other Sans? The… The original?” Black Sans wasn’t looking at you, instead looking down at his feet on the sidewalk.

You paused. Honestly, you hadn’t thought of that, this whole thing was just sort of an impulse decision, really. “Uh… Well, he needs a nickname,” you suggested.

“He won’t appreciate that.”

You shrugged. “He’s kind of a bonehead anyway. I don’t mind if he doesn’t like it. We just need a good one.” You crossed your arms in thought, then began chuckling.

“What?”

“You know, there’s this font that’s super overused, and everyone kind of hates it but also kind of loves it,” you said slowly.

“No one hates Sans.”

“Not really. But, I mean, it’d take him down a notch.” You flashed a grin at ~~Black~~ Sans. “I think Comic would be a great nickname for him. Comic Sans. The world’s worst best font.”

Sans laughed a little, shuffling awkwardly. “Thank you. For! Not that I need! But! It’s. Well, thank you.”

Aw, a flustered Black was a cute Black.

_ Cute? _

_ Shit. You had a thing for ~~Black~~ Sans. _

****SANS****

You were so goddamned stubborn.

Everyone else, every single skeleton in the entire family, checked out hours ago. Even Papyrus, who was famous for his patience and mastery of strategy games, was fading. He was propped up against Jupiter, both giggling a little as they poorly hid that they’d gotten into the liquor cabinet again. All of the Sanses (save for himself, of course) had long ago abandoned the living room, choosing instead to laze about playing video games. Stretch was flat out napping, Edge looking at him with a fond but irritated gaze. They’d only been dating for a few weeks, but everyone could see that they belonged together.

Sans was happy for them.

But right now, he wasn’t happy about anything. Stars, he was tired. Game night was supposed to be a relaxation exercise, a chance for the family to unwind. They’d invited you... again. If Sans were honest with himself, he didn’t mind all that much anymore. Ever since you broke up with your abominable datemate and began couch-crashing, he found you… Tolerable. It was downright infuriating that you refused to simply use the guest room of his--or anyone else’s--home, but you were a polite and clean guest who provided endless hours of entertainment.

For the others. Endless hours of entertainment for the other skeletons, he meant.

Right now, you were hunkered over your small corner of the board, fervently counting pieces and furrowing your brow as you tried to figure out your next move. Normally, Sans and Edge were the last two standing in Risk, but tonight you had somehow edged (ha!) out Edge and were now in firm control of the Americas and Africa, while he held Eurasia. 

“For the love of donuts, let’s jus’ declare a winner,” Mutt yawned. “I’d rather play Monopoly again than watch y’all do this any longer.”

“Hush,” you said. “This is serious.” You carefully added your troops to the board in a pattern that Sans’s superior strategic brain was unable to comprehend. “I have to crush your brother and take control of his empire for the good of the world.” 

Sans snorted. “You think you would be a better monarch? You can barely strategize where to place your troops!”

“I’d rather be a monarch than a dic-tator.” You lingered a little too long on the “dic” part of the word and Sans felt himself bristle. 

“We’re going to have to call it if we want to try any other games this evening,” Edge said.

Your eyes widened. “We can’t! I’m gonna beat him!”

“You’ll never--”

“Don’t you think it’s a little unreasonable to expect everyone to watch the two of you play? It’s no fun,” Edge countered.

“I’m still having fun, Edgy Me!” Papyrus said happily.

“You’re sloshed, bud,” Red said lazily. “Ya’d be havin’ fun in a meat grinder.”

“Fine,” you said, suddenly standing up and picking up the game board. The pieces only shifted a little bit when you did. “Stretch!” you yelled, kicking his leg.

“Mmmph,” he muttered.

“Wake up! You’re taking this to you and Blue’s house. You guys will guard it so Black can’t cheat.”

“What are you on about now?” Sans asked.

“We’re gonna finish the game,” you said, “but not tonight. Just… It’ll be an on-going battle between us.”

“To the death?” Sans asked.

“Obviously.” Your eyes flashed, stubborn determination shining from them, almost daring him to beg off. “Or you can surrender now,” you added coolly.

“Never,” Sans growled.

“Fine. To the death then.”

“There will have to be rules,” Sans pointed out.

“I can draw something up,” Edge suggested. “I’m a notary.”

Sans rolled his eye lights. “ _Everyone_ is a notary, Edge. But sure, you can certainly ‘draw something up.’”

Sans felt himself blush when you laughed at his spot on impression of Edge. _Why…?_

_ Shit. Sans had a thing for you. _


	8. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans thinks he has a way to keep his nightmares from becoming reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT PART OF THE NIGHTLIGHTS UNIVERSE.  
> It's an idea that got stuck in my head and I wanted to test the waters with it, and there's nowhere better to do that than a monthly challenge!   
> I just kept trying to think of a way that Dusty could be... Not the worst ever? But still in character? And this got stuck in my head. So anyway, I'mma just leave this here.

_ The child--no, it was a fucking demon!--did its work. Again. Paps turned into a pile of dust. Again. So did Pops, so did Dad, so did Undyne and Alphys. It happened so many times, so many times. The thing always walked right past him like he was invisible, knife slicing through his whole family before his eyes. He was all that was left. Nevermind he was just a kid in stripes. Nevermind he had lousy HP. He had to kill this kid, had to find a way, there had to be a way. Their LV was just too high; no one, not even the king himself could compete with it. _

_ Wait. _

_ Of course. _

_ LV. _

_ Now  _ that’s _ a plan. It’d be easy. No one would suspect… and if he had high enough LV, surely he’d inherit the reset powers, right? Is that how it worked? That was what Dad said when Sans told him what happened, that maybe high LV allowed the reset. So. LV. _

_ Paps was easy, just get his older brother to follow him into the forest, get him to look at a tree, hit ‘im over the head with a rock. Dad was tougher, but some echo flower in his coffee did it. Pops… Well, Pops didn’t do well with water but lived in Snowdin.  _

_ After them, his LV was high enough that everyone else was fair game, and none of them fucking hurt like his family had. ‘Sides, he’d just bring ‘em back when he was done, wouldn’t he? _

_ By the time the demon walked out of the ruins, Sans could fly on Dad’s blasters. _

_ He was ready. _

Sans sat up, gasping for air, blue sweat pouring down his skull onto the stupid dinosaur jammies that Dad thought he liked. He didn’t like nothin’, not anymore, not After.

“Sans?” Paps asked, his voice unusually quiet.

“‘M fine.”

“Is it the LV again?” 

“Said ‘m fine.”

Paps sighed and rolled out of his bed. He just got out of stripes, was all set up to go to a human high school. First integrated monster. His first day was tomorrow and here Sans was wakin’ ‘im up. Paps pulled back Sans’s covers and climbed into bed with him, pulling him tight against his ribcage. Sans wanted to fight him off, to tell him to let go, to get away from him, he was dangerous. He knew what his bro would say, though. “You never really killed us, Sans. You saved us. You’re the one who stopped the last child, remember?”

He remembered.

He remembered that every reset brought the dawning horror that his LV didn’t reset, that every time he had to kill the human his soul retained it. He remembered Dad and Pops holding ‘im while he cried that first time, tellin’ ‘em all about what happened. After that, they helped him train, helped him get ready for the next fight. Kept doin’ it until he won.

He won, finally, a few months ago. He stopped the thing before it ever crossed the bridge to Snowdin. Coudn’ save the Ruins monsters and wasn’t that a fact that’d haunt his soul forever. But he did it. He stopped the kid, caught its soul. Took it to the King. The barrier broke and now…

Now Sans had nightmares under the sky instead of under the mountain.

Paps didn’t get it. Didn’t understand that Sans didn’t jus’ dream those things. He could _do_ them. He could _kill_ everyone, _easy_. His LV was the highest in the whole monster kingdom. Wouldn’ even be a challenge. And sometimes?

Sometimes he _wanted_ to.

Which is why, the next day after Dad went to the labs and Pops went to the restaurant and Paps went to school, Sans packed a small bag of his most Important Stuff--the book Dad read to him, the picture of him and Paps when they came out of the mountain, Paps's jacket--and slipped out the door into the sunshine.

If he disappeared, he’d never be able to hurt them. They’d be sad, sure, but they’d be alive. That’s all that mattered. He clambered onto a bus, gave the driver his new name, and sank into a seat to stare out the window. Dusty didn’ know where he was goin’ just that it had to be far away from anyone he cared about.


	9. Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some sources of anxiety are bigger than others, but anxiety is anxiety all the same.

Sans snapped awake as the bed shifted; you were crawling out of it. You didn’t normally get up in the night, especially not after a mission. The two of you had been so damn tired that you collapsed into your bed and slipped into unconsciousness almost immediately. Concerned, he sat up to see you slip out of the bedroom and into the hallway. He could hear you padding around downstairs, so he sighed and teleported to the living room.

“Shit!” you said emphatically, jumping back when he stepped out of the void. Your hands sparked with aborted magic.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, holding up his hands placatingly. “I was concerned… Love, is everything okay?”

You huffed and shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “Everything’s fine,” you snapped. “I just got up. Not that unusual.”

True, but, “You’re acting strange about it.”

“It’s stupid.”

Sans sighed and pulled you into his arms. He knew that your whole life beat the idea that your thoughts were stupid into your head and it hurt his soul every time. “Probably not,” he said gently. “Even if it is, I still want to know about it. I would love to be stupid with you, my dear.”

You snuggled against him a little then mumbled, “I needed to count cats.”

He blinked as he tried to ascertain what that could possibly mean. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“I woke up and realized I couldn’t remember if we saw Zuko when we got home. Then I got worried ‘cause Nugget wasn’t in the bed either, then I thought that maybe Butters was somewhere, and before I knew it I  _ needed _ to check on them. So… I’m counting cats. Making sure everyone’s alive and in the house. I already checked you; you were breathing...”

Sans felt his worry evaporate. Of course, he was sorry that your sleep was interrupted or that you felt anxious about your cats (and him, though that sparked a bit of a warm fluffy feeling in his soul, too), but this was an easily solved problem. He clacked a kiss to the top of your head, then pulled back to take your hand. “Let’s find the children,” he said.

“R-really? You don’t think it’s dumb?”

“I don’t think it’s dumb. Besides, I always love seeing our furry and feathered children.”

You smiled up at him and, together, the two of you found two cats and a bird, each sleeping happily. After waking them up to confirm they were alive, Sans teleported the two of you back to bed, where you snuggled against him and fell back asleep almost immediately, anxiety appeased for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out it's not considered normal to wake up every night and wander around your house making sure your cats are alive. That's how I found out I have the joy of having General Anxiety Disorder!


	10. Hugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red really doesn't hug.

“Hey, boss, ya here?” Red called from the kitchen. He shortcut right to the fridge, obviously, but he wouldn’ mind seein’ his baby bro and makin’ sure he was still doin’ alright with the honey bun movin’ in. He should be; the two of ‘em had only been datin’ for like two years at this point. They were meant to be. Didn’ have to be a judge to see it.

He heard an odd sound from the living room through his special earpiece (thank you, Sans). It was some sort of snifflin’... was someone sick? Blue hadn’ said anythin’ and he had the honey bun trained to let ‘im know if his bro went down so who…?

Red pushed open the kitchen door and froze. Stretch was sittin’ on the couch lookin’ for all the world like a lost baby child. He was surrounded by a mountain of tissues and orange magic was runnin’ down his cheeks. “The fuck’s wrong with ya?” Red asked. He could feel himself blushing at finding anyone cryin’. He wasn’ exactly the comfortin’ type, but he’d try for his bro.

“Nothing!” Stretch hissed.

“Ya look like ya jus’ lost the beauty pageant,” Red said. He cautiously entered the room. He’d give it one shot, then he’d get the hell outta dodge and send Blue over.

“You don’t wanna hear about it,” Stretch sniffled.

That was definitely true, but his bro would have his ass if he left Stretch in a puddle of feelings. “Nah, ya can tell me.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Welp, that was all he had. “Wan’ me to send over Blue? Or get my bro?”

Stretch shook his head mutely. Finally, he looked up at Red. “Can you… Could you just…”

“What?” Red asked, even though his bullshit sensor was goin’ off.

Stretch clambered off the couch and shortcut so that he was in front of Red. Red forced back an attack as Stretch threw his arms around Red’s neck. The height difference meant that Stretch had to kneel to do it but he didn’ seem to mind. “Just for a sec,” Stretch said softly and Red felt wetness on his shoulder.

He never hugged no one. He raised a baby bones and spent most o’ his life shoving little grabby bony hands offa him. He had a datemate now and Sans had to practically apply for a hug permit. If it wasn’ gonna get pelvic, he basically wasn’ interested.

But his bro loved this idiot.

So Red slowly returned the hug, patting Stretch on the shoulder gently. 

Red wasn’ much of a hugger, but he could admit (to himself and himself only) that maybe huggin’ wasn’ the worst thing that ever happened to ‘im. Don’ get any ideas, but maybe he could survive this. If he had to.


	11. Lashing Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every couple fights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mention of injury involving a broken bone

You didn’t know that you’d ever been so goddamn mad in your entire life. You almost felt bad for the pure intent that had to be radiating off of you as you sulked in the back of the van. Stretch was practically curling away from you, trying to make his seven-foot frame smaller. He chanced a glance at you, winced, and said, “Listen, I know Black can be difficult--”

“He  _ benched me _ , Stretch! He’s not being difficult, he’s being _suicidal_!” you yelled. He leaned further back from you.

“I can hear you, you know,” Sans said over the speaker in the van.

“Oh _can you_?” you hissed. “It’d be even easier to hear me if I was _out in the field with you_.”

“My dear--”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you yelled. “Don’t try cute pet names, you asshole! You can’t just bench me because the alliumede makes you nervous! I’m _four centuries old_!”

“And I’m the team leader,” Sans spat back. “If I feel it is a danger to the safety of a team member--”

“What, you and Mutt are suddenly better equipped to take on a crocotta? Why’s that, Batman?”

Stretch winced at the use of a new nickname. You hadn’t called Sans nicknames for a long time and not the wrong one in far longer than that. You elected to ignore him. 

“You’re getting overly emotional--” Sans tried, which was idiotic of him. You chose to just screech over him instead of listening to that stream of bullshit.

You were almost loud enough that you missed the sudden maniacal laughing from over the earpiece. Almost. “Sans?” you yelled, but whatever he was saying was drowned out by laughter and hoofbeats. You were on your feet in an instant, running over to the screen that displayed the alley security cameras. “Where?” you asked, anger evaporating into worry.

Stretch tapped away at the keyboard and a grainy image from a gas station security camera appeared on the screen. Mutt was on the ground and Sans was standing between him and the giant alliumede. Its hyena teeth were positively dripping with black saliva as it advanced on Sans. “Teleport me,” you demanded.

“What? No, I’m not--”

“Teleport me there. And then bip yourself right back to the van,” you demanded. “Sans is terrible at shields and he can’t dodge if he has to protect Mutt. Teleport. Me.”

“El--”

“Stretch, he will die! They will die! Fucking teleport me _now_!” You slammed your hand down on the dash hard enough that his mug of coffee bounced.

The thing started laughing again and Stretch sighed. “Fine.”

“Get me there and you get the hell out, understand?”

“Yeah.”

You grabbed his arm and felt the void yoink you, then you staggered into the alley in front of Sans. You threw up a shield as quickly as you could, but it was too slow to keep you from getting clipped as the alliumede bashed into you. It was enough to take the brunt of the blow and to throw the thing off course, however, so it missed Sans entirely. You were on your feet again and shielding the three of you before it could regain its footing.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sans snarled.

“Saving your ass,” you spat back. “You gonna kill it or what?”

It charged again and this time your shield threatened to buckle under the force. You shoved more magic into the shield and felt your soul gasp at the drain, but you kept it off of you. Sans stepped in front of you and shot a bolt of magic through the beast. 

It was clear that you both expected it to go down from that one shot. You both loosened just a little, and that was a terrible mistake. The crocotta was spewing black fluid, but it wasn’t yet down. It reared up and kicked down at you. Some residual shielding lessened the blow, but you still felt your shoulder shatter on impact. 

Sans growled and hit the thing again and again until it finally fell to the ground and went limp. You sank to your knees to catch a breath, then turned to Mutt. He was unconscious but his HP was steady. “Sans, are you--”

You were cut off by Sans pulling you to your feet. He wasn’t rough with you but he wasn’t exactly gentle either. He grabbed your arms a little too tight to look you over. His eye lights lingered on your shattered shoulder and your chest, so you figured your HP must be done a bit. Honestly, it didn’t _feel_ that bad; you may be sore for a while, but it should be fine with some generous use of healing magic.

“What the _fuck_ were you thinking?” Sans yelled at you. “You could have been killed! I _ordered_ you to stay in the van!”

“If I’d stayed in the van we’d be vacuuming up you and Mutt’s dust!” you yelled right back.

“I had it handled!”

“You absolutely didn’t! Besides, you had no right--”

“I am your _team leader_! I have every right! If I want to bench you, I will! If I want to order you back to the van, back home, _literally wherever I want_ , I fucking will! You didn’t listen to me and now you’re hurt!”

“Mutt--”

“He’ll be fine!” He growled. You could see a tinge of magic creeping into his eye lights, indicating how angry he was at you.

You forced yourself not to yell. “Let go of me,” you said. He blinked at you for a moment before the words set in, but he released you when they did. “I’ll catch my own ride. Get Mutt home.”

“Eleanor--”

“Nope,” you interrupted, popping the ‘p’. “I’m off the clock,  _ boss _ . So you have no say in what the fuck I do now.” You gave him a little wave with your non-broken arm. “See ya,  _ sir _ .” You turned stiffly and wandered back towards the gas station, vaguely thinking that you’d call an Uber or maybe… You fished in your pocket and pulled out your phone.

You barely made it to the end of the alley before Sans was beside you visibly fuming. “You will go to the van and let Stretch take you to get healed,” he said. His voice was still strained, but at least he wasn’t yelling anymore.

“Nah,” you said, not even looking up from your contacts list.

“Eleanor, I am giving you a direct order!”

“I don’t work for you,” you said simply. “Got a problem? Call Asgore.” You clicked on one of the contacts and waited until you heard Toriel’s voice on the other end. The former queen of monsters was really taken with Frisk and had a bit of a motherly streak towards you as well. You figured she’d do you a favor. “Hey, Tori,” you said and Sans stiffened next to you at the use of the nickname. “I just got done with a fight. I was wondering if you’d come pick me up and give me a heal?” You paused and listened to her fret a little, but ultimately she agreed to come get you. “Thanks.” You hung up and texted her your location, still not looking at Sans.

“Blue could have healed you,” he said finally.

“Yep.”

You dared a glance over at him and found him standing at parade rest with a purple blush climbing up his face. It made your soul squeeze a little to see him so unhappy, but he pulled rank. He yelled. He grabbed. He sort of deserved to feel like shit for a while.

Silence reigned for another few moments before he tried again. “You should have stayed in the van.”

You shut your eyes and counted to ten. “Yeah, you made your feelings clear. Go away.”

“El--”

A white minivan pulled up and Toriel’s concerned eyes peered out from the driver’s side window. Without looking back at him, you climbed into the passenger’s seat and drove off.

***

Tori sure as hell knew how to handle a lover’s spat (her words, not yours). She set you up with all kinds of delicious snacks and a movie while she healed your shoulder and braided your hair. She calmed you down enough that you were able to articulate what happened with Sans. She was a good listener; she asked questions and made disgruntled noises at all the right parts of the story. When you finished, she sat quietly for a few minutes before speaking up. “You know, being married to a king meant a lot of… Awkward moments for us,” she mused.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. He sometimes tried to be more a king than my husband. He sometimes ordered me around and tried to tell me what I could and could not do in our personal lives. We had to have a long talk about it, but it helped, learning to separate our personal and professional lives.” She laughed a little. “Of course, we are divorced now, but that issue is different, of course.”

“You think I should talk to him?” you asked.

“Well, I think you should ask yourself what you want here. If you want to end the relationship, that is your right, but if you want to continue it sounds like you need to discuss this. If it helps, I do think he reacted out of love and fear, not anger or meanness.”

You sighed. “Yeah, I know. He was just pissed because I mentioned that I fought one of those things like 200 years ago and ended up in the hospital. It scared him and he benched me. But if I had listened to him, he and Mutt would be dead!”

“Black is a wonderful strategist that my ex-husband trusts with the Embassy,” Tori said. “I have no doubt that he will reach that conclusion on his own. He has probably been fretting over it all night.”

“I should probably go--”

“Oh have some more pie. A little fretting may do him some good.”

You laughed and accepted a generous slice of pie from her. By the time she was done, you felt better. You were ready.

***

You knocked on the door of Sans and Mutt’s house and waited. Edge opened the door a few minutes later and, if you didn’t know better, you would have sworn he smiled faintly when he saw you. He silently stepped aside and let you into the house.

Sans was sitting on the couch with a wine glass in his hand and he looked… okay, had he been crying? Honestly, you couldn’t tell for sure but he definitely looked miserable. His eye lights were a little fuzzy and his normally perfect posture was hunched. He looked anywhere but you as you made your way into the living room. “I’ll check on Mutt,” Edge said helpfully, then practically ran up the stairs. 

You sank onto the couch near him, but not touching him. He sat the wine glass down and slotted his phalanges together. You sighed inwardly; apparently you were going to have to talk first. “Sans--” you began.

“I understand,” he said.

You looked up in surprise. “What?”

“I understand that… if you do not want to date… well, me,” he said. His answer was stilted rather than his normal eloquence.

Your eyes widened. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

He looked at you for the first time, surprise obvious on his face. “Oh,” he said. “What… um… if it’s not that, then what?”

“Why would you think I was just gonna break it off like that?”

Eye lights back on the floor. What an interesting pattern in the wood grain, apparently. “You were angry and left,” he finally eked out.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, and I acted… I shouldn’t have…”

And that’s when it hit you: This was your first fight as a couple. The two of you fought all the time for the entire year and change that you’d known him, but not since you’d started dating a month ago. All at once, you softened and you simply had to be touching him. You pried his hands apart while he looked at you in shock, then took his hands in your own. Once you were satisfied with that, you looked him in the eye lights. “I’m not gonna leave just because we had one fight,” you said very clearly and firmly. “Couples fight. Either they can work through it or they can’t, but… I really like you. Like… I like-like you. A lot,” you admitted. “I don’t want to give up because we had one spat. With my stubbornness and your… you-ness, we’re going to fight. But I want to work it out with you, Sans. I really do.”

His jaw moved while he tried to form words. Finally, he settled on, “You like-like me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Well… I, for my part, like-like you also. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I got scared to lose you and I acted foolishly.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “But I get it. I just told you that I got my ass handed to me by one of those things before. You were worried about my safety and just wanted to protect me. But babe, you have to let me do my job too. You can’t bubble wrap me. It won’t work.”

“I know.”

“You wouldn’t even like me anymore if I weren’t such a badass.”

“I’m not sure that’s true but… I promise to try to just explain how I feel rather than… um…”

“Yelling at me like a patriarchal idiot?”

“Yes. That.”

“And I’ll try to follow orders, long as they don’t totally suck.”

When he didn’t move to pull you into his arms, you made the choice for him. You shifted forward and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I wanna kiss you,” you said.

He laughed. “Well, who am I to turn down such an elaborate and heartwarming confession?” He leaned forward and kissed you, then pulled you to lay against him on the couch. He flipped on the TV and you grabbed the blanket on the back of the couch.

There was a pop of teleportation and Mutt appeared in the recliner beside the couch. “Thank the gods,” he said. “I didn’ think I could listen to much more o’ that.”

“You--” Sans began, but Edge sauntering down the stairs and taking the armchair stopped him.

“I’m glad you kissed and made up, but I was promised the next season of Masterchef in exchange for my wine and I would like to cash in immediately,” he said.

You were about to suggest he invite Stretch when a pop of teleportation announced Stretch’s arrival. Luckily, he had snacks and paused to toss you a bag of your favorite chips before sprawling out across Edge. Edge gave him a look of faux annoyance and then sighed. “Are we ready for Masterchef now?”

“Hell yeah,” you said. You shifted so that you could catch Sans’s hand in your own while you watched the show. 

Your first fight wasn’t a good time, certainly, but making up seemed to be a pretty great experience.


	12. Protective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's nice to be the damsel in distress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Racism against monsters

In Sans’s humble opinion, the best thing about the campus of Ebbott Community College was the mathematics building. It was built out in a spiral representative of the Fibonacci sequence, with murals of famous mathematicians and their famous theorems covering the walls. He loved to roam the building, the spiraling halls giving even his perfect sense of direction a bit of the illusion of being lost. There was even a little coffee shop tucked in the center of the building with the clever title of “Just Sum Coffee”. They wrote a little math joke on every cup of coffee and Sans was constantly delighted by it. 

Today, he was meeting you at the little shop for coffee. With the holidays approaching, his responsibilities at the Embassy were picking up as well and the two of you had to be rather intentional if you wanted to see one another before bedtime. Sans did very much want that, which is why he decided to take his lunch in this little place. He was focused on the math joke on his cup (math puns are the first sine(madness)) when he felt the presence of someone else. He looked up expecting to see you, but his eye lights settled on a human male(?) with short, cropped blonde hair. Sans could safely assume that he was a college student based on his location, but Sans was in the same place and decidedly not a college student, so he decided not to bother with any guesses about age. “Hello?” he tried cautiously.

The human’s face contorted in what Sans recognized as anger. “What’re you doing here?” he demanded.

Sans looked around to see if somehow he was at a claimed table, but he didn’t seem to be. Perhaps this fellow was mistaking him for another skeleton; certainly both Red and Comic seemed to elicit this type of reaction in others. “I’m sorry,” he began, but the human cut him off.

“Yeah, you should be. This place ain’t for you.”

Sans felt his soul sink. He was not unfamiliar with bigotry and racism, of course, but he hadn’t experienced it here, in this adorable little coffee shop, before. He wasn’t afraid of this human, of course, but he also didn’t want to make a scene. For a moment he was at a loss as to what to do with this hostile person in front of him when a cold voice interrupted his downward spiral.

“You’re gonna wanna walk the hell away.” 

The human turned and gawked and behind him was you. Sans’s brain couldn’t help but point out that you looked both beautiful and tired but you were also very stiff. You were nearly a full foot shorter than this human, but you looked bigger than him as you jutted out your chin.

“What the hell did you just say to me?” the human snarled, and Sans immediately began to get up. No one was going to talk to you in that tone, not with him around.

You did not require his help.

You leaned forward a little bit, a cold, wicked smile playing on your face. “You’re interrupting my date with my boyfriend. You’re going to want to walk the fuck away right now.”

“You! You’re a monster fu--”

“If you keep talking I’m going to start screaming.” Your face changed in an instant from seething anger to terror. You even had tears pricking at the edges of your eyes. Softly, you gave him a preview of your damsel in distress routine. “Oh! Someone, please help! He grabbed me! He tried to touch me in the… you know! He bruised my arm! I’m so scared, thank goodness this skeleton was here to save me!”

The man must not have been a total idiot because realization crossed his face. He formed fists at his sides and you smirked at him again. “Gonna hit me? Go on. It will barely hurt me and, in case you’re wondering, I  _ will _ press charges.”

“You’re not fucking worth it,” the human growled before speed walking away. 

You hummed a bit under your breath and a purple thread of magic shot across the hallway just in front of him. He tripped over it and fell face-first onto the ground. You didn’t even look at him, instead sinking into your seat across from Sans and giving him your real smile. He saw you flick your eyes over his face, looking for signs that he Wasn’t Okay or that he Needed to Talk but you didn’t seem to find any. Instead, you took one of his hands in yours and asked, “What joke did you get today?”

You wouldn’t find any signs that he wasn’t okay, not with you sitting right there in front of him, smiling at him and laughing at the jokes on your coffee cups. He was better than okay, better than he ever hoped to be. And that night, when he saw you again, he was desperately looking forward to showing you just how incredibly attractive you were when you stood up to racist assholes on his behalf.


	13. Exhausted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have always kept weird hours. Sometimes you need some help getting to sleep.

You never really were one for the 9-5 job, and you’d had more time than most to reach that conclusion. You were always into the freelancer lifestyle, working whenever you felt like it, usually at odd hours of the night while hopped up on coffee. 

It hadn’t gone over well back in Salem.

Anyway, that love of an odd schedule was why you staggered into Sans’s bedroom at around the buttcrack of dawn, right when your favorite skeleton was teleporting out of bed to throw on his gym clothes. You flumped face-first onto his bed and gave a meaningful groan. You heard a soft chuckle from the closet region of the room, then felt the air shift as Sans teleported back over to the bed. It shifted as he sat down next to you and you made a pleased noise as he stroked the back of your hair. 

“You know, my dear, I never mind if you say over,” he began slowly, and you shifted, waiting for the upcoming scold, “but, if you insist on not sleeping all night I would prefer to be awake with you. Perhaps we can find a better use for that energy of yours than…” He paused. “What is it that you were doing last night?”

Ah. So he was in a bit of a playful mood, not an annoyed one. You tipped your head so that you could look at him and gave him a tired smile. “It started with a documentary about bats.”

“Bats?” He didn’t quite manage to keep the laughter out of his voice.

“Bats,” you confirmed. “And it got me wondering about the Mothman and the Jersey Devil. You know a lot of those legends are about alliumedes, right? I mean, do you know any monsters that sound like either of those guys? So I did some research.”

“And what did you learn?”

“That I want to take a road trip to the Northeast to try to find the Mothman.”

Sans’s hand stilled for a moment, then resumed stroking your hair. “Well, I hear that New Jersey is beautiful in the fall.”

“Wait,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows, “are you suggesting a vacation? You? Mister ‘the world will burn around me if I even take a day off’?”

“I suppose my perspective has changed a bit recently,” Sans admitted softly. “A vacation has never appealed before, but a getaway with you? Well. That seems worth taking some time off for.”

Your cheeks burned and you buried your face in the comforter for a moment, trying to ward off the blush that you knew Sans could already see. After a few minutes, you shifted a bit and looked up at him again, this time hoping to use the blush to your advantage. “Skip the gym,” you said boldly. “I can give you a workout right here.”

Sans laughed and gently touched your cheek. You leaned into it, marvelling at the feeling of bone against your skin. He rarely took his gloves off, too afraid of hurting you ever since that mission when everything changed.

It was hard for you to regret the scars that still littered your arms when that whole fiasco was what led to this.

You knew almost immediately what his answer was, though. His face was steeped in regret and you quietly resigned yourself to sleeping the rest of the morning away alone. 

“I wish I could,” he said, and you believed him, “but I promised Edge that I would spar with him today. His LV is giving him fits and I am one of the few that both understands and can help.” He leaned forward and kissed you deeply. When he pulled back, you followed dumbly and he grinned at you. “Besides you’re tired, my dear. You should rest. Since you’re not going to the gym with me today, I’ll be expecting you to work out with me this evening.”

It was a hallmark of how tired you were that it took you a moment to catch his meaning. When you did, you blushed all over again, then smacked his arm. “Go meet Edge, you menace!” you said with a laugh. He kissed you again, more lightly this time, then vanished to follow your directions.

You shifted and sank deeper into the fluffy mattress. Even though your offer was genuine, Sans was absolutely right: you  _ were _ tired. You hadn’t lied, per say, when you told him you were researching cryptids, but your insomnia was flaring up again too. You’d never understand how you could be so fucking exhausted that you could fall asleep standing up during the day, but completely unable to sleep at night. Sure, you should probably explain all of that to Sans, but your relationship was still pretty new. You didn’t want him worrying about your messed up sleep schedule this early. Maybe some evening exercise with Sans would quiet your wildly scrambling brain. It had about a 50% success rate, and even if you didn’t actually sleep, you’d be forced to at least stay in bed if you didn’t want the Captain of the Fucking Royal Guard to think you’d wandered off to be murdered or whatever.

Everyone has their issues, and if your personal menace needed to feel you asleep in his arms to sleep well, who were you to begrudge him the pleasure?

You closed your eyes and waited for sleep to overtake you, pure exhaustion niggling at your brain, but sleep never quite caught you in its clutches. You laid there forever, too long, long enough that  _ Mutt _ poked his head in to check on you. At that point, you gave up sleep for lost and meandered downstairs to have a late (very late) lunch and to play some Mario Kart with Mutt. You were always terrible at the game, but the heaviness of your eyes meant that you couldn’t finish a lap on Rainbow Road without running off the side of the map.

***

Several hours later, Sans teleported into the living room to find you curled up on the floor, covered in a blanket and a video game controller clutched to your chest. Mutt was sitting on the couch playing some game on mute. Sans raised a brow at his brother and Mutt grinned. _Mission accomplished,_ Mutt said in Hands. _She's been asleep for like four hours._

Sans nodded. _Good job,_ he signed back.

_No prob, bro. We all gotta work together to make sure she gets some damn sleep when her insomnia's acting up._

_Think she'll wake up if I take her upstairs?_ Sans hated for you to wake up sore because he let you sleep on the floor.

_Never has before._

Sans applied some blue magic to make your transition into his arms a gentle one. You latched onto him easily, snuggling against him and burying your face in his chest. He curled up in bed with you and watched you sleep, smiling to himself. Mario Kart put you to sleep every time and you looked beautiful when you slept.


	14. Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday Date Night: Saturday Morning Edition

You were proudly calling this particular Thursday Date Night a success. Nevermind the fact that it was technically not Thursday or night; this week, date night was interrupted by the appearance of a slime alliumede that was eating light poles around New New Home so you rescheduled for Saturday. You were secretly relieved that you’d had to cancel that particular date. It was your turn to plan and you just didn’t have any ideas so you were going to go with a night in and hope he was charmed enough to not see that you were phoning it in. 

Your depression was, uh, maybe flaring up. You didn’t want to tell anyone, though, because you knew that Dr. Springer might want to change medicines and changing medicines was  _ the worst _ .

But changing it to Saturday gave you some extra planning time and you settled on _ the best  _ idea. You met Sans at his place bright and early and were rewarded with a cream cheese danish and a huge travel mug of coffee (not to mention the sight of your extremely handsome beau in an oh-so-touchable red sweater) before climbing into your Jeep for the two-hour drive.

Honestly, the drive was nearly as good as the destination. The two of you had an ongoing constant game of Cows! to play, raising your score from 3,647 to 3,659. Sans was still in the lead with 3,741 but you were proud to be closing the gap. He also came prepared with a playlist full of songs that you absolutely loved. When he was distracted filling up on gas, you’d snagged his phone and discovered that the playlist was called “Love’s Loves” and you nearly died from the cuteness of it all.

When he saw the first sign for your destination, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Did that sign say we are going to a ‘safari park’?” he asked.

“What’s that now?” you asked, all fake innocence and big eyes.

He rolled his eye lights good-naturedly. “What is a safari park? I thought that safaris only happen in areas where interesting animals live.”

“I’m sorry, are you saying the native population of this area isn’t interesting?” innocence shifting to mock indignation.

“I hardly think that squirrels necessitate a whole safari park.”

You laughed. “This is actually an exotic animal rescue,” you said. “It’s a huge area with all kinds of animals that just sort of free roam the grounds. You get little buckets of food and can feed them.” You glanced to the side so you could see the way his eye lights lit up at the prospect.

“What kind of animals?” he asked.

“Um… Kangaroos, antelope, buffalo, little goat things, giraffes, water buffalo…” you trailed off. “Normal deer maybe? Lots of stuff.”

You pulled off the interstate into a gated entry that denoted it as the safari park in question. There was a little guardhouse where a bored-looking college student sat playing on his phone. “Hi,” you said brightly.

He looked up at you. “Uh, hi. Welcome. You’ll park in the first lot. There’s some walkin’ around you can do if you wanna and the visitor building’s where you can buy feed.”

“Sounds awesome.” You followed his instructions and drove down a windy road to a parking lot. There was a large log building beside the lot, plus several other enclosures. You scrambled out of the Jeep and ran around to grab Sans’s hand. “Okay?” you asked him. You were pretty sure he was going to love this, but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel a touch nervous about it.

“How could I be anything else when I’m here with you?” he asked smoothly.

“Well aren’t you a smooth dude,” you said with a grin.

“It’s my most important asset,” he said loftily.

The first enclosure turned out to house a few monkeys that were rescued from being pets in the area. You paused for some pictures then moved on to the next one. It was a large enclosed garden with hundreds of birds flitting around. A smiling human woman greeted you before you went in. “Would you like some nectar cups?” she asked. “The birds like to eat from them.”

“We can feed birds?” Sans asked and he wasn’t able to disguise the awe in his voice entirely.

“Yup!” she said. “They love it when you do!”

You handed over some cash for a few cups of nectar and the two of you entered the garden. It was noticeably hotter than the outside, probably due to the tropical nature of the birds. And wowzers were there birds! They zipped around overhead, bright little rainbows buzzing to and fro. The trees were full of the things, each chirping out a different tune. Sans froze and turned in slow circles, watching the birds soar around. A small yellow and green one swooped gracefully onto his phalange and drank some of the nectar before flitting off again.

He turned to you like he was going to say something, but a second bird, this one a brilliant blue, alighted on his ulna. He froze and stared at it, his eye lights flickering. It drank some nectar, chirped at him, and flew off. 

For a second you were worried that he was panicking. Being afraid of birds was a pretty common thing, after all, and it wasn’t like there were many Underground so how often had he seen them really and--

That train of thought derailed when his eye lights shifted to hearts as he whispered, “Did you see that? They landed on me!”

You smiled and fished your phone out of your pocket for pictures. “They did,” you agreed.

He frowned at you. “We must get you a bird.”

“Babe, I’m sure they’ll--”

“Be very still,” he admonished you, scanning the garden. While he looked for a bird to land on you, several more birds landed on him. Honestly, you were tickled pink just to be taking pictures of your excited skeleton acting like the little kid he really never got to be. He kept forgetting that he wanted to ‘get you a bird’ (however he thought he would do that) because he was so distracted by them all. 

You ended up trading him nectar cups when he began to run out. He didn’t even notice you’d done it, driving home how into this he truly was. When all of the cups were empty, you caught his arm and said, “There’s more to see, babe.”

“But none landed on you!” he said almost frantically. 

“I know, but it’s okay. I promise. We can always come back some time, but honestly? I just love watching you be a Disney princess wooing all the birds to your side.”

He huffed at that but allowed you to lead him out of the bird house. You thanked the woman seling the nectar and Sans made an extra donation to the bird donation box. You kept a hold of his arm as he walked towards the main building, chattering along about the birds. “They truly should have an even bigger building,” he told you. “Perhaps the Embassy could make a donation? That sort of thing is helpful in our image for humans and we want to expand our influence into more areas. Of course, I would need to run all of this by Edge, but…”

He didn’t stop talking as you handed over some money for several buckets of feed, absently accepting two of the buckets from you to carry to the Jeep. You had him strapped into the passenger seat and were pulling out of the parking spot before he seemed to realize something was happening.

“Wait,” he said looking around, “what are we doing?”

“Time for the safari,” you told him and were a little concerned to see all that excitement from the birds immediately shift to nervous energy.

“You’ll like this, too,” you told him. It was reckless, maybe; it was possible he  _ wouldn’t _ like feeding the animals from the Jeep, but after his love of the birds, you were pretty sure that he’d enjoy it.

You hoped he’d enjoy it.

You drove through a gate and into a huge, rolling field. There was a dirt path that looped through the whole park. Immediately, you spotted a small group of kangaroo chilling near the main path. “Babe!” you hissed. “Look!”

Sans was looking at them indeed. “What… Um… What are those?” he asked softly.

“Kangaroos,” you said happily. “They’re native to Australia. They hop to get around.”

“That explains the feet!” he said. You nodded and pointedly  _ didn’t _ tell him that kangaroos can kick a human in half with ‘the feet’. 

The first of the kangaroos to approach your vehicle was a fairly small one, maybe a teenager? It hopped forward and tentatively looked at you and the bucket. You grinned and grabbed a handful of food and held it out while Sans watched. You could feel him radiating nervous energy as the ‘roo looked at you, then leaned forward towards your hand. It stuck out a long tongue and slathered it over your hand, drawing back once it obtained the food. You laughed and glanced at Sans. His eye lights were pin pricks and his jaw was hanging open, but there wasn’t time to discuss it. The rest of the ‘roo family were approaching your Jeep. “Go on,” you said. “They’re hungry.”

He looked at you, then back at the kangaroo in front of him. It was considerably larger than the one you’d fed, but he bravely held out a handful of feed. He had to use a bit of blue magic to keep the pellets from falling through his bones. The ‘roo leaned forward and carefully took some of the pellets from his hand with its little paws. Sans turned to ask you what was going on, but he got his answer when a baby kangaroo appeared in the pouch of the one he’d fed. It fed the baby the pellets and, from the way Sans melted at the sight, you were sure he was going to love the rest of the trip.

And boy were you right.

He was fascinated by every animal, from the kangaroos to the buffalo to the normal run-of-the-mill deer. He told you stories about monsters that looked similar to the animals, including an absolutely terrifying story of a monster that sounded like a deranged deer that tried to murder townsfolk at Gyftmas. 

“Sometimes I miss hunting Gyftrot,” he told you, “but I certainly don’t miss finding the citizens he killed under the Gyftmas tree.”

“Shit, baby, that’s awful,” you told him as an antelope ate some of the food from your hand.

“Hmm? Yes, I suppose it was. I didn’t realize at the time.” He glanced at you, then back to his own antelope. “But there were a lot of things in Swapfell that were awful that I did not realize.” He didn’t elaborate and you didn’t ask, both of you quickly distracted by the approach of a giraffe.

***

It was late, close to dark, when the two of you pulled out of the parking lot. Sans took over driving now that the destination was no longer a surprise, so you curled up in the front seat and queued up your playlist for car rides with Sans, “Sansational Songs”. You both looked ridiculous, each sporting an large amount of safari park merch. You had a baggy sweatshirt with the logo on it and a baseball cap on your head; Sans sported a hat of his own and a lanyard around his neck. The backseat held gifts for Mutt, Stretch, and Edge, and you each had a safari park travel mug brimming with hot coffee for the drive home. You also had a couple of novelty frames secreted away to display some of the pictures you’d taken that day, including your personal fav: a very irritated Sans trying to get one of the birds out of his eye socket. It hadn’t hurt him; it was just uncomfortable, so you felt absolutely no guilt for your intentions to show Danny Butterman the picture to see if he would nest in Sans’s socket the next time he stayed over. 

You let Sans twine your fingers together over the center console. “You know,” he said softly, “I never imagined living in peace on the surface.”

“Yeah?” you asked, equally softly.

“It… The queen in Swapfell was very different from Toriel here. She… She made it clear that she would not tolerate humanity when we reached the surface.”

You sort of knew that. He didn’t speak of the queen fondly, going so far as to shakily admit that he’d seen her kill several human children. You knew that her children were killed by humans but coming out of the mountain swinging? It would have been a suicide mission.

“We all knew that fighting her war was suicide,” Sans said, giving voice to your thoughts. “I suppose I didn’t think we would ever get there. I… I can’t say that I was happy to march to my death. I certainly wasn’t about to let Mutt do it. I’d only been in this world a month when you broke the barrier and I didn’t know Asgore like I do now. I feared that he would be the same as my queen, but.” He shook his head. “But we are here. We live in relative peace with humans and mages alike. I get to see--” he chuckled a litte-- “delicate birds and kangaroos! It’s unbelievable! Even Gyftmas is no longer a horror but, rather, a joy.” He glanced over at you and sighed, a small smile climbing on his face. “I just love you so much.”

_ Your heart! _ “I love you too. I’m really glad you’re here. On this surface.”

“Me too, love. Me too.”

He gripped your hand a little tighter and you let him, so grateful that he was here, that he was happy, that he was with you and safe. You’d do anything to keep him that way. 

Well, except  _ not _ train your pigeon to land in his eye socket. That was a bridge too far even for the love of your life.


	15. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some lies are just too big to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Light sexytimes, not graphic

“Why would you lie about this?” Sans asked. His voice was small and hurt.

“Babe--” you began, but he interrupted you.

“You had so many times to come clean and you just! Kept! Lying!”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings!”

“My feelings?” Sans snarled. “Well, my feelings are sure as hell hurt now!” He turned his back to you, leaning on the kitchen counter for support. 

You scrambled to your feet and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around him. He stiffened in your grasp but he didn't pull away. “Babe, I’m really sorry.”

“You should be.”

“I know. But hear me out. The first time, we’d only just started dating and I wanted to make you happy! And by the time you made it again, it was too late. And I would do anything for you, you know that, but at this point in our relationship I just… I can’t pretend anymore. I just don’t like your chocolate frosting. I like _literally_ everything else you make! Everything!”

“How do I know that’s true?” Sans asked.

“Make anything you want for dinner. I’ll eat it.”

Sans sighed. “I already planned to make five-hour stew and I know you love that already.”

“I could…” you hesitated, blushing a little. You slid your hands down to his hips. “I mean, we could have _something else_ for dinner.”

“Excuse me? You don’t like five-hour stew now?” he asked, scandalized.

“No, I love it. But I love other things, too.” You moved your hips against him deliberately and he froze, seeming to finally catch your meaning.

“Hmm,” he said. “So you’re saying we could have dessert before dinner this evening.” 

“Right,” you said in your best sexy voice. “It’s only fair since I ruined your cupcakes.”

“That’s true,” he said. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to take you up on your offer.” You blinked once and Sans had you up on the counter kissing you fiercely while his hands wandered a bit.

You had to admit that your daring confession had some fringe benefits that you weren’t totally expecting. Maybe someday you’d tell him that you were also a little iffy on his alfredo.


	16. Crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things never change. A tale of two nights of Mutt crying.

Papyrus  _ never _ stopped crying, not  _ ever _ .

Sans was big now, big enough to know that babies shouldn’t cry all the time, but he didn’t know what to do about it. Mother took… Well, she said not to think about that anymore and she’d be mad if she found out he didn’t listen to her.

He didn’t like it when Mother got angry.

Which is why Papyrus needed to stop crying _right now._ She would be home any time now and if the baby bones was crying she might make them do the Tests again. “Papy,” he said, his voice both pleading and stern, “please stop!”

“Not Papy!” his little brother screamed at him.

“Fine! Papyrus! You have to stop crying; Mother will--”

“Not Papyrus!”

Well, that stumped Sans. “What do you mean ‘not Papyrus’?”

His brother stopped crying long enough to look up at him with huge orange eye lights. “Mutt,” he said resolutely.

Sans felt his soul clench. Mother didn’t much care what the children were called, he didn’t think, but he knew that she wouldn’t like it if he called him that. That… That was something they weren’t supposed to think about anymore. “No,” Sans told him. “You’re Papyrus. Not Mutt.”

Papyrus started crying again, screaming, and Sans felt his soul tighten with worry. Maybe… Maybe it could be a secret? “Listen,” Sans said to his brother, pulling the small bundle into his arms. His brother hiccupped but stopped to listen. “I cannot call you that when Mother is home.” Papyrus took a breath, gearing up to scream again, but Sans kept talking. “But I can call you that when she’s not here. It’ll… It’ll be our special brother name. It’ll be our secret. Okay?”

~~Papyrus~~ Mutt nodded against him and looked up at Sans. “No Mutt when Muzer home,” he said.

“Right. You are Papyrus when Mother is home. I’ll call you Mutt when she is gone. But we cannot ever tell her, alright?”

“Alrigh’,” Mutt said happily. He immediately snuggled against Sans and yawned. “Wuv Sans.”

Sans felt himself blush furiously and held his little brother tighter. “Love you, too, Mutt,” he said softly. It made his soul settle a bit, using the name. Mother said not to think about Mutt, that Mutt would never come back, but if they kept this small secret, maybe it could be like Mutt never left.

***

Sans woke from his sleep with an attack fully formed. He sat up and looked around. You stirred beside him. “Wuzat?” you asked, voice heavy with sleep. He carefully directed his magic away from you, safeguarding you from it.

“I heard something,” he said, but that wasn’t strictly true. He wasn’t sure what woke him, not exactly, but he knew something was happening in his home. “I’ll be right back.” 

You blinked at him and shook yourself awake. He felt your magic flicker and watched you reach behind the headboard and retrieve a mage-blood knife. He stifled a grin; he knew you had weapons hidden around, but it was always humorous to him to discover a new hiding spot. Once, he’d startled you in your kitchen and you’d wrenched a knife out of a sack of flour. You shifted and padded over to stand by the door so that you had the advantage if anyone were to try to enter the room. 

Gods, he was a lucky skeleton.

He slipped out of the bedroom on silent feet, listening for whatever woke him. He paused as he passed Mutt’s door and his soul sank a little. Whimpering. He carefully pushed open the door and sighed at the sight. His brother was curled up in the back corner of his bed crying. There were bones in blues and oranges swirling around the room, casting everything in an eerie glow. “Mutt,” he said gently.

The bones froze, then shifted to point at him. He summoned a bone club and hit one of them. He saw the moment the feel of his magic filtered through to his brother’s soul. Mutt shivered, then began crying harder. The bones disappeared and his brother crumpled into a pile.

Sans teleported over to the bed; walking seemed like it would just take way too much time and he needed to get to his brother  _ now _ . He yanked his baby brother into his arms roughly and ran hands glowing with healing along his back. Sans was a shit healer but he’d been doing this since Mutt was a baby and he wasn’t about to stop now. He murmured soothing nonsense against his brother’s skull.

“It hurts,” Mutt managed to gasp out.

“I know,” Sans said.

“Make it stop.”

_ I can’t. _ “Here, let me…” Sans gently summoned his brother’s soul. He would never do this with anyone else, but he’d been doing this with Mutt for centuries. He had his magic surges that left him sick with frustrating frequency; less often, his brother had this. It was just part of who they were and, were he honest, probably one of the reasons they were one of the few sets of brothers that still lived together.

No one else knew about this particular situation. When he was fully awake, Sans suspected that Mutt didn’t even really know what it was.

Sans looked at his brother’s soul, unfortunately light pink with LV. It was nothing compared to his own soul, he knew, but he still always felt deep regret when he saw it. He never wanted Mutt to need LV, not for any reason. 

There was a small section that anyone who understood monster souls would think strange. Where it was in the soul changed from time to time, but it was always there. Most of the time it glowed a light purple with Sans’s magic but when that magic ran out, on nights like tonight, it turned to a dull, faded gray. Sans coated his hands in his magic and very gently poured it into the discoloration. It slowly pulsed with magic, turning from gray to purple, and by the time he had sealed the hole, Sans was exhausted. His brother had stopped sobbing, though, so he knew it worked. He needed to stay, to make sure that his brother was alright through the rest of the night, but he was loathe to leave you alone, too. He felt distinctly vulnerable with his magic depleted like it was. He couldn’t teleport right now and certainly couldn’t defend you if there was some sort of attack. Mutt would likely sleep like the dead for a long while yet as well and he couldn’t help feeling that they were in danger.

At least they weren’t back in Swapfell. These sessions were so much more dangerous back in their little house in Snowdin. Luckily, he only had to do this once a year or so, but back then he waited on pins and needles to see if each session was the one that they'd get ambushed during, the one that would leave only two piles of dust where they used to be.

Old habits die hard.

He tensed as the door to Mutt’s bedroom opened, but it was just you standing in the doorway with wide eyes. For a moment he was terrified you saw, that you knew their weakness, that you’d use it against them, but his logic took over quickly. Even if you did see, you loved them. You would probably be upset that he didn’t tell you about it, but you certainly weren’t a danger to them.

Your face softened when you saw them. You walked over to the bed and pulled up the blanket Mutt had kicked to the floor. You tucked both skeletons in and leaned close to Sans to whisper in his ear. “You okay?”

He simply nodded. His depleted magic demanded rest, already pulling him under. You smiled at him and murmured, “Get some rest, love. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

He didn't know how you knew. Perhaps you'd seen after all, or perhaps you were just that good at reading him. Either way, you said exactly what he needed to hear. His soul filled with so much love for you that he thought it might burst. Maybe he’d be able to tell you about this, one day. You were the only one he’d ever wanted to, he realized.

Someday.

He fell asleep, the nearby magic of his brother and his datemate soothing him.


	17. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch sets up a little physics experiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I've done "Roadtrip" quite a bit, so this is a little bit different direction for that prompt, but I like it.

“I’ve done the math,” Stretch said, all smug confidence.

“I’m not risking your life because you’re good at math,” you shot back. You crossed your arms.

He snorted. “I’m not ‘good at math.’ I’m a fucking math genius. I’m a prodigy.”

“You also can trip over your own shadow.”

Stretch changed tactics from ‘Stretch, smug confidence’ to ‘Stretch, pouting’. “Come on, El! You know that it would be awesome!”

“Unless you dust because you forgot to carry a one.”

Stretch sighed. “That’s why they’re here.” He gestured to the rest of the skeletons that fit into the middle of the Venn diagram of “lazy bros” and “can teleport” that were all milling around listening to you and Stretch argue. 

Sans and Edge were working late, some sort of fire at the Embassy needed put out (hopefully a metaphorical fire, but with the way things were going you wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a literal one) so Stretch decided to take advantage of the absence of the voices of reason to perform an experiment.

“I’m telling you,” he said for the tenth time, “if you use this equation I worked out--” he distributed messy post-it notes to the skeletons “--then you’ll be able to shortcut into a moving vehicle at any speed. I even took speed variation into account!”

“And if you miss you get hit by a moving car and dust,” you said.

“‘S why I’m goin’ first,” Mars said. “Got the highest HP here. Might as well put all that HP I got from killin’ folks to work.”

Everyone stared at him for a minute before Red finally said, “Man, yer world really is the asscrack of the multiverse.”

Mars shrugged. “I ain’t disagreein’ with ya.” He looked over the equation again then declared, “‘M ready to give it a shot.”

Five pairs of puppy dog eye sockets turned to you. You sighed and walked over to your Jeep, ignoring the cheers of the skeletons behind you. “I swear to the gods, if any of you make me dust you with my Jeep because of stupid physics, I’m gonna follow you to the monster afterlife and kick your ass.”

“Hey, I know you’re in a mood but there’s no reason to drag physics into this,” Stretch said. “Ok, so drive down the road at varying speeds. We’ll see if Mars can shortcut to your front seat using my equation.”

You put the Jeep in gear and pulled out onto the winding little street of the cul-de-sac, changing speeds as instructed. You kept one foot hovering over the break, prepared to slam it down at the first sign of the whole plan going to shit.

It was only a couple of minutes before a loud pop exploded in your car and Mars appeared in your passenger seat. "Holy shit!" you yelled, slamming on the breaks. Mars looked at you completely nonplussed. "That worked?!"

Mars shrugged. "Well, I ain't dead."

You laughed. "I guess let's do it again!"

***

A half an hour later, every skeleton had taken a turn teleporting into your Jeep. You tried different speeds, different streets, different combos of skeletons, and they were all successful. You were finally enjoying yourself, rather than feeling like you were going to pass out from the stress of it all. Hell, your palms even stopped sweating!

You were headed back to the house after a round with Red and Comic (in which Comic landed in Red’s lap and peppered him with kisses while Red sputtered and blushed so hard you thought he might have a coronary) when the plan went to shit.

The other skeletons were rounded up and standing on the lawn looking chagrined. Behind them were two very angry looking Captains of the Royal Guard. It would have been comical how much they looked alike standing there with identical scowls if you weren’t pretty sure they were going to gut you all.

“Shit,” Red muttered.

“I told y’all this was a bad idea,” you groaned as you parked on the street. Edge stalked up to the car and grabbed Red and Comic by the scruffs of their necks and drug them off to the lawn. Sans stomped up to your door and glared daggers at you.

“Hey babe,” you said in your best breezy voice, “how was work?”

“Lovely, thank you. Now, what’s this I hear about you letting them try teleporting shenanigans in a moving vehicle?”

“Well… Stretch did some physics and figured it out? It worked every time; no one got hurt!”

“And you do realize that if they had missed they could have easily dusted?” he asked, his voice getting more heated with each word.

You looked away. “We started with Mars. Since his HP is higher.”

“Well, it’s good to know which of our family you’re most willing to sacrifice!” He turned to the other skeletons. “We’re done here! Go home!” He zeroed in on Mutt and narrowed his sockets. “We will discuss this when I get home, brother.”

Edge drug Stretch and Red into his house. All of the other teleporters disappeared, throwing you a pitying look as they did so. 

You took a deep breath. “Babe, I’m sorry. I really should have stopped them.”

Sans sighed. “Yes, you should have. Now: do you have the equation that they used?”

“Uh… Yeah? Mars left his post-it note…” You fished the post-it off of the passenger’s side floorboard and handed it to him. “Why?”

He looked over the equation and then grinned at you. “Because I’m not about to be the only teleporter that hasn’t accomplished this.”

You gawked at him. “What happened to ‘easily dusting’?”

“Oh that was all a show so they wouldn’t try anything more dangerous,” he said with a dismissive wave. “Edge was far more upset than I was. Now, do you think that the road by your house will be empty enough to try this, or do we need to go somewhere else?”

You burst out laughing as Sans climbed into the passenger seat. “You’re serious?”

“Very.”

“Man, I love you so much.” You leaned over and kissed his cheek.

He shifted and pulled you into a deeper kiss, then pulled back and smiled at you. “I love you, too, my dear, but you are cutting into my moving teleportation practice time.”

You shook your head and put the Jeep in gear. “Let’s do this.”


	18. PTSD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch has a bad time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: PTSD, panic attack, brief concern that an animal is harmed (not graphic and the animal is fine), brief mention of past abuse

Stretch was not a weird amount of excited to be going over to his new best friend’s house for the first time to watch TV. It wasn’t weird, nope, not a bit. It was perfectly normal to be obsessing over what to wear and what to bring and would she think he was eating a normal amount of Taco Bell or too much Taco Bell? And what if she was just saying that Taco Bell was fine but she really hated it and that would be the end of their friendship, not that he cared because he didn’t.

His phone dinged just as he was about to change sweatshirts for the fifth time. He glanced at it and allowed himself a small grin. It was from Edge, who was currently doing a security stint with the diplomats overseas, leaving Stretch in an empty house for a week. And, sure, maybe he messied it up just a bit and maybe he suspected that Edge put Ellie up to inviting him over, but that was no reason to not be a fantastic house guest and new best friend.

_**edgelord [6:49 p.m.]:** Stop obsessing and just go over. _

Stretch blinked at the text and sighed. He briefly wondered if Edge was watching him on the cameras that he knew his gremlin of a brother installed in their house, but nah, he didn’t need to. He knew Stretch, knew him well enough to know that he was doing this.

_**Me [6:52 p.m.]:** No u _

_**edgelord [6:53 p.m.]:** She doesn’t care what you wear. Just GO. _

Stretch sighed and decided to follow his more logical half’s instructions, teleporting to your porch before he lost his nerve.

You answered the door quickly, a huge (but maybe nervous?) smile on your face. “Hi Stretch,” you said, stepping out of the way so he could come inside.

Your house was kind of what he expected since he found out that you inherited your family’s ancestral estate. It was big, with beautiful wood floors and intricate designs on the door frames. Furniture-wise, the place was weirdly barren, though.

His confusion must have flashed on his face, because your smile turned strained. “Yeah, sorry, I haven’t replaced the furniture since…” 

Oh. You haven’t replaced the furniture since your ex-datemate threw you off the second floor balcony and your couch broke your fall. He grimaced, then offered what he hoped was an easygoing smile that didn’t betray how much he wished your ex would show his face around here again so he could turn him into a shishkabob. “No problem,” he said.

“I brought down a bunch of pillows; I figured we could do a kind of pillow nest thing?”

“That sounds great.” He held up the bags of Taco Bell that he brought with him. “I brought the eats.”

You practically tackled him to get the food. “Awesome! I’ve been _dying_ to get Taco Bell!” He laughed and relinquished the bag to you. “I’ll go get some plates,” you said. “Make yourself comfy. My unfurnished home es su unfurnished home and all that.”

You disappeared around a corner, so Stretch plopped into the nest you’d created. He pulled out his phone to do some Twitter Time Killin’ when he heard a sound that stopped his soul cold. It was soft but still sounded larger than life as it echoed around his skull. It was a cat.

He looked up from his phone and felt panic overtake him at the sight of a tiny, pudgy calico kitten. It mewed again and he shot backward, trying to remind himself to breathe, to to to to--

_ To protect Sans from the goddamn Temmie for once. _

His eyes strobed orange and one hand raised over his head. He summoned a blaster and took aim while the damn Temmie cackled maniacally at him, its paws already covered in his brother’s dust. 

“I won’t let you hurt him anymore,” Stretch said, his voice shaky. He took a breath and fired the blaster, the whole world turning to a blinding laser beam of magic. When the  ~~ dust ~~ smoke settled, there was a crater where the Temmie had been. Stretch didn’t dismiss the blaster yet, though. Fool him once, shame on him. Fool him a million times, well… 

He heard a noise to his left and tried to roll to the side. Shimmering purple magic surrounded him and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t, he was going to dust again, AGAIN, and he’d wake up to Sans grousing to get to his sentry station and it would all just happen again again again AGAINAGAINAGAINAGAINA--

“STRETCH!”

That wasn’t his name, not in Underswap. That was his new name, the one that Edge called him, the one that Black and Sans and Red and Mutt all called him, the one that…

_ The one that you called him. _

He choked as the Judgement Hall dissolved around him, revealing your wrecked living room. The TV was melted, globs falling into a crater that his attack left behind. You were standing beside him, hands raised and glowing, a shield surrounding him, your face a mask of worry and determination.

SHIT.

“No, no, no,” Stretch sobbed, sinking to the ground and curling up into a ball. “No, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…”

He felt rather than saw your magic dissipate and you move towards him. “Stretch, can I touch you?” you asked gently.

He didn’t know why you’d want to, but he desperately wanted you to, to comfort him, so he nodded. His orange tears were staining your pillowcases, he noticed distantly. Your hand was gentle and cool on his back. Slowly, you pulled him until he was more in your lap than not, rocking him and singing softly and soothingly under your breath.

Slowly, slowly, slowly he stopped crying. He kept his face buried against your shoulder, couldn’t look at you, not after. You let him stay nestled against you, still humming softly, until finally minutes or hours later he pulled away. You let him go easily. “You okay?” you asked, your voice warm and concerned and gentle. “Do you want me to call Edge? Or Blue?”

He shook his head. “I… I’m sorry,” he repeated.

You glanced at the crater and shrugged. “It’s not like the living room can’t stand a remodel anyway. No big deal. No one got hurt.”

He blanched. “But your cat!”

You waved him off. “She’s fine. I saw your blaster before you fired so I grabbed her. She and her brother are shut in the bedroom so they don’t scare you again.” You shifted a bit then looked at him with big eyes. “I’m sorry; I should’ve told you there were cats. I didn’t know.”

“How could you?” he asked. “I never told you about it.”

“Well, I’m still sorry.” You glanced around your house then shrugged. “Do you want to go back to your house and watch the movie? I’m, uh, a little short on a TV.”

He stared at you, his jaw slack. “Are you really not pissed?”

You shook your head. “You should see some of the shit I do when I remember… him… I thought I saw him at the mall last week and I straight up dove behind a potted plant and hyperventilated for like ten minutes. Apparently, I shielded myself and cried, too. The store clerk was very concerned.”

Stretch couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “I’ll pay for your house to get fixed.”

You shrugged. “We can talk about it later.” You wandered back over to where you’d dropped the plates when you rushed in to save the cat and how were you not pissed off at him for that? He really, really, really didn’t want to never come back over here; you were his friend, his best friend, and he didn’t want to lose that. 

He swallowed thickly and said, “Um. Before we go? Could I maybe… Could I meet the cats?” His voice was small and fragile and thick with emotion. Maybe if he met them he wouldn't be afraid anymore?

You looked at him in confusion, then your face softened. “Yeah, sure. Of course. Are you sure, though? You really don’t have to do this. It’s okay.”

He nodded resolutely. “Yeah, I wanna be friends with them. I really do.”

You quirked a grin at him and led him to a guest bedroom off of the living room. You paused when you reached the door. “They’re both kittens,” you said. “One’s calico and one’s black. If it’s too much just get out, okay? I don’t expect you to be best friends with my cats if you have like… background cat trauma or whatever.”

He nodded and you opened the door. He braced himself for the primal fear he’d felt earlier, but it didn’t come. There were two little floofs pushed against the door that staggered out and fell around your feet when you opened it. They both milled around you crying, trying to get your attention. Cautiously, you picked them both up (they were small enough for you to hold one in each hand) and held them against you. “Okay, you beasts,” you said with a laugh. “This is my bestie, Stretch. Be nice to him.”

They really were just… kittens. They didn’t look anything like Temmies, not really. Their eyes were rounder, their fur was fuzzier. Their little teeth were even less pointed than the Temmie’s serrated mouth blades and he was going to stop thinking about that _right now._ They couldn’t talk and Temmies don’t meow so they didn’t sound alike, not really. The calico had a sort of high-pitched little meow, which is probably what set him off, but now that he listened carefully he could hear that it wasn’t the same as that evil laugh he heard so many times right before he tasted his own dust.

He reached a cautious hand out and pet the calico’s head. It pushed up into the touch and made a happy purring noise. He felt some of his trepidation melt away with the sound. “What’re their names?” he asked.

“The calico is Nugget and the black one is Firelord Zuko,” you said with a grin.

“Firelord?”

You blinked at him, scandalized. “Dude, I know you’ve only been on the surface for like six months but you haven’t seen Avatar The Last Air Bender?”

He shook his head and you groaned. “Change of plans. We’re watching that tonight.”

He cautiously touched the black kitten, Firelord Zuko, patting its fuzzy little head. He reached his little claws up and caught Stretch’s sleeve. Stretch tried to pull it back, but the kitten held fast and suddenly he was a kitten climbing tree.

“Zuko!” you scolded.

But, “I’m ok,” he said. He was as surprised as you, but he really was. He pulled the kitten to his chest and pet it for a few seconds, enjoying its little kitten rumble before he needed to give it back. You took it and put it down gently.

“Ready to go?” you asked.

He nodded. “I think… I think your cats are ok,” he told you, and he didn’t think he was lying.

“Well, any time you want to hang with them you can,” you said with a smile, “but you never have to. I get it.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Can I… I might want to tell you ‘bout it.” 

You were clearly surprised, but if you really were his best friend, maybe it was time for him to start putting some weight behind the title. “Sure,” you said, “if you want to. But you don’t have to. You don’t owe me anything”

“I know,” he said, looking down at Nugget as she jumped on his shoelace. “I want to.”


	19. Hot Cocoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scooby Gang gets a little TLC.

You were curled up on the couch, snuggled tightly against Sans on one side with your legs tucked up against Mutt on the other. Stretch was origami-ed into the small space on the other side of Mutt.

Everyone looked terrible.

It was nearly three a.m. when your team staggered into Edge’s house, everyone a little singed and smelling slightly of smoke from your most recent mission. Edge was decidedly unhappy that Stretch had invited himself on your little mission; apparently, the two had a fight about Edge treating Stretch like a 'fragile little flower' so Stretch snuck out and joined you.

Too bad he picked the mission where you had to retrieve a stolen cache of dragon eggs. 

They hatched mid-transport and the four of you ended up frantically fighting your way through a warehouse of ex-army thugs that was steadily going up in flames because of the living flame throwers you were transporting. Add in that the warehouse also housed illegal fireworks and the whole team was pretty lucky that you were damn good at shields.

You were exhausted and so was everyone else, which led to this little puppy pile you had going on the couch. Edge had practically ripped the door off of its hinges when you rolled up, but he took one look at the level of exhaustion in your faces and softened. He tersely ordered the lot of you to “sit the hell down, and make sure to take your shoes off, I don’t need to clean dragon urine out of the carpets!” then disappeared into the kitchen.

He reappeared several minutes later with a tray of mugs. He distributed them to each of you, along with a platter of cookies that he plopped onto the coffee table. You gratefully took the warm beverage; your throat was killing you from all the yelling. You smiled when you realized it was hot chocolate. Yours had whipped cream with sprinkles. A quick glance confirmed that Mutt had a spicy version with chili pepper and chocolate syrup and Sans had more marshmallows piled on than you could shake a stick at. You couldn’t get a look at Stretch’s, but you would bet money that it had little colored mallows with a light dusting of salt on top. Everyone’s favorite.

Edge, to your surprise, scooped Stretch up and took his seat, settling Stretch into his lap. He had a cup of dark hot chocolate, bitter as coffee, that he sipped over Stretch’s shoulder. Stretch melted into Edge’s arms and nuzzled against his sternum, fight clearly forgotten.

No one said anything for a long moment, but it was a comfortable silence, a moment of taking comfort from one another. Eventually, Stretch grabbed the remote and turned on Survivor and you all settled in for a few episodes of mindless reality TV. Eventually, the four of you would drift off. You’d wake up more spread out, each of you covered in blankets and your mugs whisked off to the kitchen to wash. You knew Edge would stay up and stand watch over you, allowing Sans to rest without fear. Edge would give you all breakfast, then maybe you would watch a movie together, or perhaps you’d go do something outside in the cool November air. Or, maybe you’d head home and spend some time with just Sans and Mutt, playing video games or reading books or even napping.

But all of that would be later. Right now, you had a perfect cup of hot chocolate and a perfect pile of friends to share it with. 

You wouldn’t have it any other way.


	20. Flashbacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The simplest things can hold the worst memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: lots of mentions of raw meat, implications of cannabilism, panic attack, mentions of therapy, mentions of triggers
> 
> We don't exactly experience a flashback in this chapter, but an aborted one I guess? I don't know; I just wanted to visit with Jupiter a little and here we are!

_This wouldn’t be a problem!_ Jupiter stared at the door of the kitchen warily, trying to force his face to maintain the big smile he’d offered when their little neighbor asked for his help. They were having a party and, of course, remembered the wonderful neighbor spaghetti he’d made for them and had asked him to cook! It was an honor to be asked, of course, and nevermind how nice it felt that someone wasn’t afraid of his cooking, but… but…

He didn’t use meat in his cooking. Tofu was a wonderful substitute for anything that required meat! He simply felt uncomfortable around raw meat. His therapist called it a “trigger” and it didn’t make him any less great that he didn’t want to be around it! His neighbor, though, didn’t seem to know that his recipe didn’t require meat and told him enthusiastically that they’d purchased him the finest beef to make meatballs with.

_ And he could do that! _

Just because the last time he touched meat had been Underground and had been… Well! That didn’t mean that he couldn’t do it now!

And it didn’t mean anything that he quickly announced, “I nearly forgot that I need my cooking assistant! I’ll be right back!” before sprinting out of the house and back to his own.

He pressed himself into the small closet in the front room and tried to control his breathing, using the counting thing that his therapist taught him. He squeezed his sockets shut and counted, concentrating on breathing slowly. He was a nurse now, for gods sakes! He could be around… But his patients weren’t _dead_. They weren’t _meat_. They weren’t all _pink_ and ready to be formed into… 

He fumbled with his phone and pulled up the first contact he could think of. His brother wasn’t an option; while he’d never mentioned any “triggers” himself, Jupiter couldn't help but suspect that he also wouldn’t do well around raw meat. And he wasn’t ready to admit to the others his fear of a simple ingredient in a dish, not when they’d just begun to let him cook for them! But there was one monster that had never turned their nose up at their cooking, that he knew wouldn’t judge him or make fun of him. 

The phone rang twice before Mutt answered with a confused, “‘Ello?”

“Hello friend!” Jupiter said brightly.

“Hey Jupes. Everythin’ ok?”

“I was hoping… I was wondering if… Could you help me with something?” He shut his eyes against the less-than-great delivery of that particular request.

“Uh? Sure? Where are ya?”

“Home.”

“K. I’ve got Ellie here too. That ok?”

Jupiter paused. You were a delight, obviously, but seeing him like this…? But then he remembered the morning that Black showed up on his step with you in tow, looking like you’d been hit by a truck. You’d told him everything through hysterical tears. And that one time at the mall… Maybe… Maybe he could tell you about his weakness too? “That is fine,” he decided.

“Yeah? Ok, we’ll be there in a few seconds.” 

Mutt was true to his word; Jupiter heard the tell-tale pop of teleportation only a few seconds after he hung up the phone. “Jupiter?” Mutt called.

He should’ve gotten out of the closet before you ever arrived. There wasn’t anything to do but move forward now, so he climbed out of the closet as quickly and with as much dignity as he could. He straightened up and tried to smile, but the matching looks of concern in Mutt’s eye lights and your eyes made it clear that he was fooling exactly no one.

“Hey, buddy,” you said with an easy smile. “What’s up?”

“I.. I am supposed to cook for the neighbors,” he said slowly. He didn’t want to say the rest, but he knew he would have to. He swallowed and kept going. “And they want meat in their spaghetti.”

It only took a second for understanding to flicker across your faces. “You wan’ us to tell ‘em yer spaghetti’s better without the meat?” Mutt offered. “We don’ mind.”

“For real! You make delightful tofu spaghetti! I might even like it better than Sans’s spaghetti, though if you tell him that I’ll be forced to kill you,” you said playfully.

He swallowed. “No, uh, they bought it already and I’d hate to waste… But maybe… Could you help me prepare it? I… my therapist calls it a “trigger”?” He looked at you for confirmation that you knew what that meant.

To his surprise, both you and Mutt nodded. “‘Course,” Mutt said. “We all got our triggers.”

“You do?” Jupiter asked before he could stop himself. Rude! _Rude and stupid and--_

“Yeah,” you interrupted his thoughts. “I respond really badly to breaking glass and that cologne smell that the mall has.” You winked at him. “But you knew that one already.”

“An’ any kinda yellin’ or anger or darkness…” Mutt rubbed the back of his neck. “I got a lot.”

“We all do,” you confirmed. “Even Sans.”

Jupiter blinked at you, fighting the magic welling in the corners of his eye sockets. He didn’t need to cry in front of you too! You’d think he was a pathetic crybaby! 

Your smile said no such thing, however. You bustled into his kitchen and came back with two aprons, holding one out to Mutt as you pulled your hair back out of your face. “Just tell us what you want us to do,” you said. 

Jupiter looked at you and Mutt, both wearing his aprons (despite yours being far too large on you) and beaming at him ready to help. His soul soared and, as he directed you out the door and towards the neighbor’s home, he realized that this really wouldn’t be a problem. Not with the two of you here to help him.


	21. Make/Build/Create Something Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mutt, Mars, and Jupiter have a new job.

Mutt was hella nervous. Not just ‘man, I hope this goes ok’ nervous. Nah, he was nervous like that 24/7. His therapist called it ‘anxiety’ and it was pretty damn normal for him. Nah, this. This was ‘if this doesn’t go well I will literally dust’ nervous.

This was only the second time he’d ever done this, the first bein’ your birthday party earlier in the month. How you talked fast enough to get him to agree to leadin’ a ‘cookies and canvas’ party for you and the whole damn skeletal Brady Bunch he would never know, but ya did and even he could admit it went well. You and Sans’s paintings hung proudly in the upstairs hall of your house. Honestly, he figured ya’d do that whether ya liked it or not. Nah, it was discovering paintings hanging in Edge and Stretch’s house, Papyrus’s house, Blue’s house, and Mars and Jupiter’s houses that really sealed the deal for ‘im. Papyrus had even whispered to him at the last movie night that Red and Comic hung theirs up too, though he also mentioned that he disapproved of their vulgarity.

Personally, Mutt thought replacin’ the trees with dongs was hilarious. None of their bros agreed, though.

So that’s how he ended up doin’ this. Edge overheard Mars and Jupiter talkin’ to him about the three of them goin’ into business together, with Jupiter makin’ the cookies and he and Mars doin’ the painting part. Against all odds, Mars was a good artist and actually wanted to do this for some reason. Mutt kinda got it. This was somethin’ away from the Embassy (and, in Jupiter’s case, the hospital), away from life-or-death decisions that affected all of monsterkind. This was jus’... cookies. And paint. And if it didn’ go well, who really gave a shit? People may be pissed off, but no one would  _ die _ . 

And, with that thought, Mutt felt his nerves lessen. 

He watched as Edge’s small team from the Embassy filtered into Edge’s living room. He recognized some of them; Edge’s assistant, Janice, was there, along with Sans’s assistant, Thomas. There were a few members of the highest ranks of security and a few others that Mutt didn' recognize. Mutt figured that Red and Comic qualified to join the party, but hadn’t been interested. Stretch and Sans were both there too, quipping back and forth as the Embassy employees settled into their seats. You appeared next to him so quick that, if he didn’ know better, he’d think you discovered how to teleport. You leaned on him and grinned up at him. “You ready, Scoob?” you asked.

“I didn’ know you were comin’,” Mutt said, maybe to mask his nerves? Or to jus’ be a dick?

You laughed. “I’m just here to beat the shit out of anyone who is mean to you boys. Don’t even worry about it. Anyone messes with you?” You punched your palm with your fist. “I’ve especially got my eye on Garathe over there. He can be a real asshole when he wants to be.”

Mutt laughed reflexively. He didn’t doubt that you were serious. You might not actually throw down if someone was mean, but you would definitely use that wit of yours to make ‘em regret ever speakin’ up. You had a way about you that made people listen to ya when ya talked. You laughed along with him, then pulled him into a side hug. “You won’t need me,” you told him. “You guys are gonna do great.” Before he could say anything, you were off, bopping over to Sans and Stretch to join in whatever conversation they were having. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you grabbing his bro’s arm and kissing his cheek while Sans playfully tried to push you away. 

You were so good. For both of them. For all of them.

Mars appeared beside Mutt, looking a little nervous himself in his nice jeans and button-up shirt that Jupiter forced on him. “Ready?” he asked. Mutt looked back at you and his bro, his little family, laughing and talking, then back to Mars, who was rapidly becoming one of his best friends. 

“Yeah,” he said, picking up the sample painting the two of them agreed on for the party. “Yeah, I’m ready.”


	22. Campfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You introduce the skeletons to a surface delicacy.

New New Home was full of absolutely beautiful, reasonable homes with beautiful, reasonably sized yards. But, if you wanted an authentic camping experience without getting too far from civilization, your house couldn’t be beat. Your family’s ancestral lands included an ancient forest that stretched for several acres. You could wander out there and feel isolated and at one with nature while being within a safe distance of a wifi signal and a bathroom.

You were fairly confident that not a single one of the 10 skeletons gathered around the fire were going to actually sleep outside, but they all seemed pretty happy to be gathered around the fire anyway. Last week, you discovered that none of the skeletons had experienced a campfire despite being on the surface for _years_ at this point, so you took it upon yourself to introduce them to the glory that was a campfire. Now, everyone was gathered obediently around the fire waiting on you to give further instructions.

“Does everyone have a stick?” you asked, glancing around the circle. Each skeleton held out their stick proudly (which might be the cutest thing you'd ever seen) except for Red who was trying to get Comic to sword fight with him. “Great,” you said, swatting Red’s hand so he would leave his poor collared alone. “Now, take one of these.” You passed around a bag of big marshmallows.

Everyone grabbed one happily and passed the bag along. It stalled out at Mars, who tried to grab a handful and looked at you like you were going to scold him. You just smiled at him and shrugged, so he popped a whole handful into his mouth before passing them on to Edge.

Once everyone had (at least) one, you continued, “Now, skewer the mallow with the stick.”

“Sorry, what?” Sans asked, scandalized.

“Yeah, this seems like a perfectly good mallow. Why’re we murderin’ it?” Mutt asked.

“Trust me,” you said. Both Swapfell boys narrowed their sockets at you, but nodded and impaled their mallows. Everyone else followed suit. “Now, you’re going to hold it over the fire. Your goal is to get it a light brown color, without it falling off of the stick or catching on fire.”

“Wait,” Red said, “they catch on fire?”

“Yep, if you get them too close to the fire or leave them still for too long.”

“I didn’ know I was signin’ up for a damn Chopped competition,” Red grumbled, some sweat forming on his forehead.

“Do… you guys wanna watch me?” you asked. You laughed at all the skulls that were vigorously nodded at you, then approached the fire, knelt down, and held your stick over it. You roasted the mallow, turning the stick slowly. Each skeleton leaned closer and closer to you, watching your technique. You didn’t say a word as both Edge and Sans scrunched so close to you that they were physically touching your shoulders. You figured they would have taken notes if they had paper, but had to settle for committing absolutely everything about it to memory.

Finally, Comic seemed to get bored. “I’mma go for it,” he said. He cautiously stuck his marshmallow over the fire, turning it slowly like you showed him. Everyone watched with wide sockets while he worked. Eventually, he pulled it back and held it out for you to inspect. 

“Great job!” you said. You had to force back a laugh at his bright blue blush. “Now…” You led him over to the graham crackers and chocolate and helped him assemble his first s'more. He looked over at you and then popped it in his mouth. He chewed for a minute then his eye lights brightened. “Good?” you asked.

“The only way it could be better would be if it was ketchup,” he said, awestruck.

The other skeletons gathered around the fire, ready to try their luck now that one of their own was successful. You dashed around calling advice and encouragement. The first setback was when Sans got his mallow a little too close to the fire. He yelped as the poor thing burst into flames, panic exploding across his skull.

“It’s okay!” you said quickly. “Blow it out!” He yanked the stick out of the fire and blew out the fire. “It’s okay, babe. Some people prefer them burnt. You should give it a shot.”

“Really?” he asked. “You’re not just trying to spare my feelings?”

“Nope,” you said. “It’s a real thing.”

Sans blipped over to the graham crackers and assembled his s'more while you turned your attention to the other skeletons. Soon everyone tried their first s'more, everyone’s eye lights brightening as they went to make another. And another. And another. They slowly got used to the process, each perfecting the art of mallow roasting. Mars was quick on the draw; his blue magic caught any mallows that fell off the stick. Red turned out to be a mallow connessiour, giving all of the other skeletons sage advice like he was Gordon Fucking Ramsey or something. 

Hilariously, Sans just couldn’t get the hang of roasting the mallows. He burnt them or dropped them every time. Finally, you focused your magic to create an invisible shield around the mallow, allowing some heat in while keeping the damn thing from falling off the stick. His eye lights brightened with joy as he successfully roasted the thing. You couldn’t help but smile as he assembled his s’more proudly, then offered you the first bite of it. Mutt nudged you gently and winked at you. You rolled your eyes and silently held out your pinky to him. He took it with a little shake, silently promising not to tell Sans that you shielded his mallow for him. 

Slowly, s’more-making devolved into singing and telling spooky stories. Surprisingly, Jupiter was by far the best at telling ghost stories. He even spooked the Underfell brothers; both of them accidentally summoned attacks in their nerves. Everyone spent the night laughing together, all snuggled around the fire, enjoying the stories, watching Blue and Papyrus hold onto one another with a death grip during the scarier tales. Sans wrapped his arms around you and held you close while you listened to the joy around you, so grateful that you got to be the one who gave your family their very first s'mores around their very first campfire.


	23. Panic Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic attacks aren't always especially obvious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a description of a panic attack and (very brief and undetailed) mention of past abuse! Be safe out there!

Sans had a normal day at work; he had several (boring) meetings that required a substantial amount of coffee to survive, lunch with Edge in his office (they both avoided the cafeteria’s “food” as much as possible), and then an afternoon of paperwork. Thomas was an excellent guard dog (ha!) and kept him free of surprise guests all afternoon, which allowed him to scoot out the door nearly an hour early. His drive back to New New Home was filled with nothing more complex than what he should make for dinner. He hadn’t heard from you all day, but it was safe to assume that you’d want to eat together. That was the norm--you, him, and Mutt dining together each evening, sharing your days and jokes--and, truthfully, it was everything that he’d never known he wanted all of those years ago in Swapfell.

His preferred route home from the Embassy took him past Ebbott’s local skatepark. He rarely paid it any mind since he and Edge had banded together to stop you and Stretch from taking up skateboarding, but he noticed the colorful trucks parked along the sidewalk and his eye lights brightened. Food trucks! You loved food trucks! How often had you told him that any food prepared in a truck was superior to any other food? You spent an absurd amount of time trying to convince Grillby to get a food truck; any time the fire elemental saw you enter his establishment he would immediately hiss out, “No trucks!” and dash to the back to avoid the discussion.

He had a bounce in his step as he let himself into the house; he couldn’t wait to tell you about his plan. You and Mutt would absolutely love it. He wasn’t fond of the greasy faire himself, but there was little that he would not do to see you and his brother smile. He smiled himself to see you sitting on his couch with your legs tucked up under you. You had the fluffy blanket from the back of the couch draped over your legs and you were tapping away on your laptop. Probably working on some freelance writing or perhaps your photography? He practically skipped over to you, leaning over to kiss your cheek. 

“Hello love,” he purred. “I have a wonderful idea for dinner! There are food trucks at the skatepark. I thought we could get Mutt and the three of us could enjoy the weather and the trucks.”

He waited to see the delight on your face, the excitement in your eyes, to hear you carry on about the different trucks and make plans about what exactly everyone would order so that they could have the best food truck meal…

He waited, but you didn’t even look at him.

He frowned and shifted so that he could look at your face and he really didn’t like what he saw there. Your eyes were big and you had a tight smile plastered on your face. You looked… You looked like you were upset about something and trying to act like you weren’t. _Why…?_

You looked from him back to the computer and swallowed, forcing that fake smile to get bigger. “That sounds great, babe. I’m in. For sure.”

He felt a flicker of annoyance in his chest. Why didn’t you want to go? Why were you acting so _weird_ about it? You drug him to every food truck you saw and now that he found one for you, you weren’t interested? “What’s the matter?” he asked, barely managing to keep the snap out of his voice.

You flinched a little anyway and that made him even more annoyed. Why were you flinching from him? It was like… His mind supplied the image of you taking a step back from Oliver that last time you saw him, hiding behind him and Edge a bit. _Why the hell were you suddenly afraid of him?_ He felt a panic claw at his throat. Had he done something? Said something? You seemed fine last night and you were still asleep when he left this morning...

“Nothing,” you said too quickly. “Just tired! I’ll go get ready and you can wrangle Mutt, okay?” You hopped off the couch and tried to dash past him, but he caught your arm. It was gentle, he would _never_ hurt you, but he knew it was the wrong thing to do the second he did it. He felt you recoil and wrench your arm from his grasp. You staggered back and stared at him with wild eyes like he’d hit you. 

"What the hell?" you snarled at him, rubbing your arm like it hurt. 

Any and all irritation died out and was immediately replaced with remorse and worry. “I’m sorry,” he said placatingly. He held up both hands so that you could see them clearly. Now that he was looking at you, really looking, he could see that your shoulders were tense and your breathing erratic. Your eyes weren’t just big; they were blown wide like you were afraid. You were pale and had a slight tremor in your hands. _What the hell…?_

The two of you stayed that way for a couple of minutes, you staring at him and gulping down angry breaths, rubbing your arm; him, holding out both hands and waiting. After a small eternity, your face crumpled from fury to misery and you took a shuddering breath. You sank back down onto the couch and buried your face in your hands. Sans was entirely unsure of what to do, so he approached you slowly. He was careful to make noise so that you knew he was coming and he didn’t touch you. He just sort of hovered next to the couch and waited to see what you would do next, even though his soul was screaming for him to do _something_ , _anything_.

You took a deep breath and whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sans, I didn’t mean to… To react like that.”

He slowly sank down onto the couch next to you, still keeping his hands to himself. “It’s alright. I’m just worried about you. I don’t… I’m not sure what’s going on,” he admitted.

“I’m being dramatic,” you said.

“I seriously doubt that.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you said softly. “I just… I got thinking about all the work I needed to do and I couldn’t get started and it seemed like everything I tried to do I couldn’t. I just couldn’t concentrate, and this is my only day off for the rest of the week; I have shit to do every day and it just freaked me out.” Sans still wasn’t following you, but he nodded anyway. You seemed to take that as an invitation to keep talking, thankfully. “I got stuck in my head and I wanted to go to food trucks but I was so worried about everything and then I thought you’d be mad and…”

“And I grabbed you,” Sans said gently, stowing away his own guilt for later when you weren’t clearly in the middle of a panic attack. “You were having a panic attack and I didn’t notice, then I grabbed you and that made it worse.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed bitterly. “I’m so sorry, Eleanor. You would think that all of these years with you and Mutt would teach me but I just can be very, very dense.”

You shook your head. “I’m the one that’s being crazy.” You said it softly but like an old familiar mantra. He wondered how many times that phrase ran through your head just today to make it come out the well-worn.

“Would it be okay if I held you?” Sans asked. “It’s okay if you say no, I promise.”

You didn’t answer right away. That was good; you were actually considering your answer. Finally, you crawled over to him and sort of thumped against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tight, rubbing little circles on your back and gently petting your hair. He felt your breathing even out and your muscles loosen, signaling the end of your attack. Only then did he speak again. “Have you been away from your computer since you got up today?” You shook your head. “What if we took a short walk, just to see if being away makes you feel better? If it does and you want to, we could go out after that. If not, we come right back here and Mutt and I leave you alone so you can work.”

You sighed. “You’re not dense,” you said. “That’s a good idea.” You shifted yourself around so that you could look up at him and he was relieved to see that your face was calmer than it had been before. “If it’s still too much… Do you think you could…” you trailed off a little and looked away.

“I’m sure I could if you tell me what it is,” he said teasingly.

“Help me, like, sort out what to do? It’s all jumbled in my head and I just can’t think through it.”

Sans laughed. “There is nothing in the world I love more than making a list.”

“Believe me, we all know that.” The sound of your laughter made the rest of his worry melt off his soul. 

“Actually,” he said thoughtfully, “there is one thing that I love more than making a list.”

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Yeah.” He tilted your chin up so that he could kiss you. When he pulled back he said, “I love you more than making a list. Just a little.”

“You charmer,” you said, then you struggled to your feet and pulled him along with you. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Sans grabbed your hand and held on tight, letting you guide him towards the door. He loved you so much and there was nothing he wanted more than to go on a walk with you. Maybe afterward you’d go to food trucks or perhaps he’d help you make a list to still your panicking brain, but he could honestly say he didn’t care what he was doing, as long as he was doing it with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how other people's panic attacks look in real life, but I do know how they look on TV and in stories, and they never look like the ones I have. Mine are more like this... They're going on and people can literally be having entire conversations with me without knowing that I'm freaking out. I guess I just wanted to see how our hyper-observant little skellie would handle one of those attacks, one that might not be obvious right away.


	24. Memory Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mutt's always been grateful for everything Sans did for him, but one gift stands out the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Panic attack, brief mention of Swapfell Grillby being the literal worst

It was cold here and Mutt didn’t have a coat, only the little threadbare blanket that Sans found at the dump. But they had a house here and Sans said the bad guys didn’t come to Snowdin; it was too cold for them. It was too cold for Mutt too, but he remembered the searing flames from the bad guys and he didn’t really mind being cold now. Being cold was better than burnt all crispy.

Mutt froze (ugh, puns) when he heard footsteps at the front door. He squeaked and dove under his bed, holding a stifling hand against his mouth while big tears rolled down his skull. Sans told him they were safer here, but not safe, never safe. If he heard anything or anyone while Sans wasn’t home he was supposed to teleport to the forest cave, the spot where Sans showed him, and wait, but he was too scared. He was shaking so hard that his bones were rattling faintly.

He heard the locks that Sans put on the door click and the door opened, then shut. Mutt squeezed his sockets shut and tried to stop rattling. If he didn’t, they’d find him and they’d--

“Mutt?” Sans’s voice called out from downstairs. He could hear the panic in his big bro’s voice. He knew he should call out, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t say anything. He heard footsteps on the stairs, moving super fast towards Mutt’s hiding spot. His bedroom door burst open and he could see Sans’s sneakers peeking out from under the bed. “Papyrus?” Sans called, almost pleading.

Mutt managed to make a small strangled noise and his brother’s feet shifted towards the bed. Sans dropped down in front of the bed, his skull coming into Mutt’s view. Mutt cried and held his hands out to his brother. Sans sighed and grabbed a hold of him, pulling him out from under the bed. He should be embarrassed; he wasn’t a baby bones anymore and he was almost too big for Sans to pick up, but he was too scared to do anything but cling to Sans’s grubby sweatshirt.

“You’re okay,” Sans cooed, holding him against his chest. He walked downstairs and Mutt snuggled against Sans. He settled onto the old couch that whoever lived here before them left behind and pulled Mutt’s little blanket around his shoulders. “You’re okay,” he repeated, rubbing soothing little circles on his shoulders.

Mutt didn’t know how long they sat there, only that Sans’s sweatshirt was getting all wet from his tears. It had to be cold but Sans didn’t say anything about it. Eventually, he shifted and said, “I brought you something from the dump.”

Mutt perked up and looked at the thing that his bro was poking him with. It was a long black box. He scooted off of Sans’s lap and picked it up gently. He looked up at Sans, who just smiled and shrugged at him. “Open it,” Sans said. 

Mutt did, slowly. It had a zipper on the side that he struggled with a little, but he managed to get it without Sans’s help. It fell open and he narrowed his sockets in confusion. It was filled with little squeeze bottles in different colors and sticks with weird fur on the ends. “What is it?” 

Sans chuckled. “It’s an art set.”

“Art set…? What does it do?”

“You make art with it. Remember that mural we saw on the wall in the alley?” Mutt nodded; of course he remembered. It was his favorite place to stay in New Home. The big fiery lizard (Sans called it a dragon) made him feel safer when Sans left him to try to find food. “Well, it was made with this stuff. Paints and brushes. Now, you can’t paint the walls in the house, but you can use the paper we found in the extra room.”

Mutt’s sockets widened. “I… I can… I can make a dragon, too?”

“Little brother, you can make whatever you want.”

***

“Whaddya think?” Mutt asked, leaning on his ladder casually. Well, he hoped it was casual. He was sweating somethin’ fierce because damn did he hope it was good.

Edge, Sans, and Asgore all stood together looking at the mural he painted on the side of the Embassy. They hired him a few months ago to transform the brick into a mural that ‘would remind monsters of their heritage for generations to come’ and, well… He worked hard at anything the Scooby Gang did and, more recently, the little cookies and canvas parties that he put on with the Horrortale bros, but this… This wasn’t _just_ something he worked hard on. This was something that _mattered_ to him, that he _loved_ , that he wanted… Well, he wanted them to like it, that’s all.

The mural was a stylized map of the Underground, with all the good stuff about different areas played up. It had the ruins with the big purple door, Snowdin with Grillby’s displayed  ~~_ (it wasn’t his Grillby, this Grillby didn’t turn kids to ash) _ ~~ , Waterfall with its echo flowers and Blook Farms, Hotland with the labs and MTT resort, and New Home with the palace and a mural of a dragon that Mutt discovered existed in this world, too. He waited silently for the leadership of monsterkind to pass their judgment.

It was taking so long.

So, so long.

The three of them gathered together at the end of the mural and whispered with one another (which was incredible, considering they were three of the loudest-voiced people that Mutt had ever met). They kept gesturing to various parts of the mural and, for once, Mutt couldn’t read their faces, his abilities clouded by the gnawing panic in his gut.

Finally, the three of them approached him. He tried to smile but the looks on their faces told him that he was less than convincing. “Well,” Sans began, looking at Asgore.

The king waited a beat before breaking into a huge smile. “We love it!” he boomed. Mutt shot Sans a look, that bitch, makin’ him worry, but Sans just smiled back serenely. “Would you be interested in another job?”

Mutt blinked, not processing the words for a second. “Wait. Another job?”

“Yes,” Edge said. “We have been considering adding a mural to the side of the school. Would you be interested in taking on that project? It would be a bit larger than this one so we would be sure to compensate you for--”

Mutt really didn’t mean to yank Edge into a back-breaking hug, interrupting his job offer, but that’s what happened. Edge squeaked a little as Mutt lifted him off the ground. He managed to get a hold of himself a few seconds later, setting Edge down gently and scurrying over to stand by Sans. He was pretty sure his big bro wouldn’t let Edge break him in half. 

But instead of getting angry, all three of them smiled at him. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Edge said as he dusted off his suit. “I’ll have HR reach out to you and reach an agreement for compensation.”

“Th-th-thank you,” Mutt stammered.

“You earned it,” Asgore told him. “You are a very talented young monster.” The king clapped him on the back and then he and Edge turned to go back inside.

“You did a good job,” Sans said awkwardly. Complementing his brother was probably causing him physical pain.

“Yeah?” Mutt asked, decidedly not helping.

“Yes. It’s… I’m… I could see how… One might… be proud of you,” Sans managed.

Mutt couldn’t help but grin at his normally-smooth brother’s inability to discuss his feelings. How he managed to have a real relationship with a wonderful woman was absolutely beyond Mutt. But, his bro deserved to hear it too, so, “Welp, couldn’ta done it without ya.”

“I didn’t help at all,” Sans said, visibly confused.

“You don’ remember? You’re the one who got me my art supplies for most o’ my life.”

“Thats! Nothing! Literally nothing!” Sans said, his blush deepening.

“Hey,” Mutt said firmly, “it ain’t nothin’. It’s… You… I know what all ya did for me, ya know? After mom…?”

Sans stiffened at the mention of their mother. Mutt didn’t remember the woman (thank goodness) but Sans certainly did, and he never had positive reactions to being reminded of her. “Brother--”

“I’m jus’ sayin’ thanks,” Mutt interrupted. “That’s all. Ya deserve to hear it.”

Sans shook his head. “I… I was barely an adequate brother.”

“Agree to disagree, then, because I thought ya did a pretty kick-ass job.”

Sans nodded and looked away with bright purple cheeks. He figured that his bro would find some way to retaliate for all of these _big feelings_ they were sharing, but that was fine. He was tellin’ the truth and, the longer he spent with you and on the surface, the more he wanted to tell the truth. His bro deserved to know how good of a job he did all those years ago.

They all deserved to be happy, even the Swapfell bros.


	25. Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge and Black make a plan.

Edge had been… thinking. 

Edge was always thinking, of course, but this was a brand new topic for him. Dating, in general, was not something that he ever expected to be doing, certainly not Stretch of all skeletons. He never even considered it Underground and on the surface, he doubted that he would have considered it at all if Stretch hadn’t made the first move. 

He hadn’t even recognized it as “a move” until they’d been dating for two months.

Now, they’d been together for nearly four months and he’d been thinking.

He nodded to Thomas as he strode past his desk to rap on Black’s door. Their assistants understood that they were always welcome in each other’s office and were thus never turned away. It made Edge feel warm inside, having a friend whose office he was always welcome in. 

Not that he would ever admit that to Black.

The smaller skeleton looked up from his computer as Edge entered. “Edge?” he asked happily. “Have a seat. What can I do for you?”

Edge did sit in one of the plush chairs in front of Black’s desk. “I… I have a matter that I would like to speak with you about,” he said stiltedly.

Black raised a brow at him. “Go on,” he said.

“I… Well. You are aware? That I’ve been… Stretch?” He almost buried his skull in his palms at that amazing display of verbal dexterity.

Black seemed to sense that this was not the time to mention his abnormal struggle with words. “That you are dating Stretch, yes. Is… Is it going okay? Did something happen? I like Stretch, but if I must, I will--”

“Everything is fine!” Edge cut him off, a little too loud. It was gratifying to know that Black was firmly on his side if anything were to happen, but he didn’t wish to discuss it. “More than fine, actually, it’s very… fine.”

“That’s good,” Black said. “Is there... a reason we are discussing this?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I have been thinking.”

“Alright.”

Edge swallowed, suddenly regretting entering this office. Gods, why was this so hard?! “I may wish to… Um…” He felt himself fidgeting with the arm of the chair and forced himself to stop immediately. “I may wish to escalate my relationship. With Stretch.”

“E-escalate? In what way?” Black asked. He looked decidedly uncomfortable now.

“I wish to… I may wish to… Kiss him.”

Black stared at him for a full 10 seconds before bursting into laughter. Edge felt his face burn and he began to stand up to storm out, but Black waved him back to his seat. “Sorry! Sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I thought… Gods, I thought you were going to try to discuss your sexual life with me!”

Edge sputtered, turning an even brighter shade of red. “No! No. No. We are not… That is not… We haven’t…”

“Well, I see that now,” Black said good-naturedly. “If we are simply discussing your first kiss with Stretch, then I would assume that… more intimate activities have not yet occurred.”

Edge nodded briskly. “Well! I! Um! This isn’t _just_ my first kiss with Stretch…” he trailed off and looked to the side uncomfortably. 

Thankfully, Black didn’t make him finish that thought. “I see,” he said. “Well. I must tell you that I am not… I also do not have much experience with this particular topic.”

Edge nodded slowly. “I kind of thought that may be the case. Our lives have been so similar.”

“Indeed. What, if I may ask, are you hoping for from me?”

Edge sighed. “I suppose I was hoping you would help me strategize. And… Well… Am I making a mistake?” He hated how small his voice sounded.

Black leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling in thought. “A mistake? Well, I suppose that depends on some things. Is Stretch a proper mate?”

“A proper mate?” Edge asked.

Black nodded. “Does he seem to care for you? Does he show interest in your interests? Does he support you?”

It was Edge’s turn to think, but the only answer he could come up with was, “Yes.”

“And you find him attractive?”

“Obviously.”

“He’s good to Red as well?”

That made Edge pause to think. Red and Stretch fought like children, but in the end, they seemed to always care for one another. “I believe so. They fight but…”

Black nodded. “Yes, but they do seem to care for one another. We all fight with Red. It’s impossible not to.”

“Indeed. He is an infuriating little gremlin.”

“Well, if all of that is the case, I do not see how you can be making a mistake,” Black said. He bipped over to the filing cabinet by his door and dug around for a moment before retrieving a file folder. “Seems that we need a strategy.” He bipped back to his chair and opened up the file on the desk. A few pictures of Stretch fell out and Edge leaned forward and frowned. The pictures were recent. There was one of him getting off the bus and another of him smoking in the backyard of his and Blue’s house. There was one of him and Edge on their first date, the outing that Edge didn’t know was a date.

“Why do you have these?” he asked.

“Please,” Black said, “as if you don’t have a similar file on everyone we know.”

“The pictures are creepy.”

Black shrugged. “I’m fine with being creepy.” He pushed the pictures out of the way and shuffled some papers. “Now, I have a chart of his likes, dislikes, interests, skills, and phobias. It seems that, in order to successfully obtain a kiss, you would simply need to plan a date that combines as many likes and interests as possible, while avoiding the dislikes and phobias.”

Edge leaned over the chart and nodded. “That seems reasonable. Do you have any suggestions?”

Black laughed. “I always have suggestions. Hold on.” He tapped the phone and said, “Thomas, do you think you could get Edge and me some coffee? And hold all my calls and visitors unless they are absolutely urgent.” He met Edge’s eye lights and said, “Edge and I have extremely important business to attend to.”

“Yessir,” Thomas said.

“Alright,” Black said, leaning back in his chair again, “let’s make you a plan.”


	26. The Gales of November [pt. 1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving is here, but the Scooby Gang isn't. The other skeletons handle their disappearance as well as they can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went a little nuts with this one! I've been planning to do a 'Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald' spooky wreck thing for Thanksgiving since I found out the ship went down in November. It got a little long and a lot out of control, so these connected chapters are covering the following prompts: Recovery (like recovering stuff from a shipwreck, get it?), Junk Food, and Movie Night.
> 
> TW for all chapters: Mentions of vomiting, references to cannibalism, mentions of hunger/starvation, descriptions of past horrific injuries (they're healed, but the results are described), mentions of marrow in reference to a current injury, mentions of drowning
> 
> Remember that everything always turns out alright in the end in Nightlights!

Thanksgiving, this year, was a good deal more muted than normal for the skeleton clan. Four of them were working--three out of state and one in the same house but certainly not totally present at the dinner table. The Scooby Gang got a call from Agent Marcie a few days before Thanksgiving that took them north to one of the Great Lakes. When Edge and Black looked over the request together, they both agreed that, yes, it was urgent and that it was likely they would be able to get the job done and be back in time for the festivities. Unfortunately, that had proved to be too tall an order and that left three of the Scoobies on a freezing fishing boat on the lake while the rest of the family gathered in Edge and Stretch’s warm home to enjoy the largess that the cooks of the family prepared. Even Sans left food with Edge in case they weren’t back in time; Edge, Papyrus, Jupiter, and Blue had all agreed to set the food out, although they were all sad to do so.

It just wasn’t the same without the three of you.

Stretch, at least, was able to venture upstairs some. He monitored your coms through his own and could pull your stats up on his phone, so after three days of absolutely no alliumede activity, he felt safe enough to venture upstairs for a quick plate and some conversation. He ended up at the opposite end of the table from Edge, but that was fine; it was closer to the basement and Stretch was only staying for a bit before returning to his computer anyway. 

Edge couldn’t help but be grateful that Stretch’s part in this mission hadn’t required him to go with you. It was selfish of him, he knew, but even a distracted Stretch was better than no Stretch at all. Edge watched fondly as he heaped his plate up with Jupiter’s mac and cheese; Stretch absolutely loved the stuff and it was easy to see that Jupiter basked in the praise as well. He never prepared any of the meat dishes (for obvious reasons) but he was fantastic at side dishes. Somehow he was able to make green beans that were so good that they could easily be considered a desert.

Despite Stretch’s exuberant consumption of the mac and cheese, the three empty places at the table cast the whole dinner in a less-than-happy light. Edge regretted sending the three of you away; surely the human government had others that could have gone? Honestly, the mission shouldn’t have been that much of a challenge. Nearly four decades ago, a cargo ship went down in a November storm. Everyone onboard died and the ship’s goods were lost to the bottom of the lake. It was a tragedy that most people in the country were aware of, though Edge could admit that he had to do some Googling. What no one was aware of was that iron ore wasn’t the only thing that the ship was carrying. It also had a Top Secret Thing on it, something that made the government squirm. Apparently, they’d tried to get it back before, many times, and those crews always came back hysterical, reporting all kinds of buckwild nonsense: the sunken ship vanished before their eyes, the ship never existed at all, or (most interestingly) the ship didn’t sink and it was manned by a single malevolent ghost. Of course, there were a few crews that didn’t come back at all and you assumed that’s when the government decided they needed your assistance. 

Of course, November was the worst possible time to be on the lake; it was notorious for squalling storms and freezing waters that claimed many lives before and since the crew of the ship that concerned you was lost. But Agent Marce explained that any teams sent at other (safer) times couldn’t find the wreck at all, despite having the exact coordinates. They searched for days and days, but they always reported back that they were truly stumped. It seemed that the same week that the ship sank was the only time that anyone could find the wreckage. Of course, that week was the week of Thanksgiving, which is what led to your empty place settings around the table. Jupiter still insisted on putting out plates for you “just in case”, though even if you finished the mission immediately, there was no way you’d be back early enough for dinner. He supposed that you might make it back for your absurd tradition of Black Friday shopping and people watching, but, at this point, even that was a stretch.

Speaking of Stretch (ha!), he was in the middle of an animated conversation with his brother and Papyrus about some story or other from Underswap when suddenly one hand flew to his ear canal and the other to his phone. His sockets widened and he muttered a string of curses under his breath. “Sorry, boys, gotta go to work,” he said quickly, then disappeared entirely from his seat.

Edge stood quickly to follow him to the basement. That reaction could only mean that Black’s team had encountered something. He paused when every eye light at the table turned to him. He coughed a little and cleared his non-existent throat. Clearly he wasn’t going to be allowed to leave without some sort of explanation. “I do not know,” he said evenly, answering the question that they were all thinking. “If you will excuse me, I will check on the situation and we will report back as soon as we are able.”

“Need a hand?” Sans asked easily, but he could see the heat behind his eye lights. 

“No,” Edge said firmly. “Thank you. Everyone, please continue to enjoy the festivities.” 

“I will make sure that everyone continues to enjoy themselves,” Papyrus said brightly, but with a glint of determination in his eye lights.

“Yes,” Blue agreed, “worry simply won’t help and therefore will not be tolerated! Even if… Papy did look very unhappy when he left.”

“They’re fine,” Jupiter said. “They’re always fine; I’m sure they will be this time.”

Blue seemed to rally and nodded at that declaration. Edge nodded too, and, with that, he made his way down to the basement. 

Their basement was a workspace for Stretch. When Edge bought the house, he assumed that his brother’s lab would be down there. However, Red had surprised him by declaring that he wasn’t moving into the new house when it was built, insisting that they needed their own places. It stood empty until Stretch moved in, bringing his own lab equipment and technology with him. One side was set up as a lab, complete with a heavy plastic curtain that separated it from the rest of the room and its own dedicated sprinkler system, proven necessary on more than one occasion. The other side was Stretch’s tech set up that he used for the Scooby Gang’s missions. It mostly consisted of a large desk with multiple large computer monitors set up, a few framed pictures of the skeleton crew and the Scoobies, and a couple of chicken plushies that Edge had given him. When Edge reached the basement, Stretch had all three monitors up and running with various pieces of information flickering across each. Edge recognized the read out that tracked everyone’s vitals and the typical display that indicated whether or not allimagic was present near you. He had your cameras pulled up on another monitor and some sort of radar running on the third and he was frantically tapping at keys on the keyboard.

The cameras were the first thing to catch his attention. He strode forward and hit the button that he knew would allow him to hear the coms channel, hoping that some of the chatter would make what he was seeing on the screen make some sort of sense. It looked like you were all underwater or, more accurately, you were all caught in a fierce storm. He could hardly tell what was going on on the screens because the picture was so washed out from the water, everything gray and wet. He could tell from your camera that you and Mutt were holding onto one another; Black’s camera seemed to be looking out over the water, which appeared terribly treacherous.

“--on the radar?” Black was yelling when Edge switched on the coms.

“No! The radar is totally clear!” Stretch spat back. “There isn’t any damn storm on the lake!”

“Oh really?” you yelled angrily. “Everyone’s secured, right?”

“Right,” Mutt agreed. His camera panned down to show that you and Mutt both had harnesses on with what appeared to be heavy carabiners clipped to them. Edge assumed that the set up was what was keeping you all safely tethered to the ship.

“Report,” Edge demanded.

“Storm whipped up out of nowhere,” Black said, yelling to be heard over the wind. 

“The whole area’s covered in allimagic,” Stretch added. “That storm ain’t natural.”

“Can you teleport back to shore?” Edge asked.

“Negative,” you said. “Too far out.”

“Sans! What the hell?” Mutt yelled angrily. His camera panned down to show that he was holding a carabiner in his hands. “You ain’t buckled in!”

Black turned to face you and Mutt, his mouth open to yell something, but he didn’t get a chance. A huge wave hit the side of the boat and sent him tumbling across the deck. His skull bounced off of the wood and he went limp. Edge glanced at his vitals and saw that he was unconscious. 

“Sans!” you yelled. You let go of Mutt and shifted so that you were skidding across the deck too, moving as fast as you could towards him. Mutt was yelling something but Edge couldn’t hear it over the wind in the background and the pounding of his soul in his skull. If Black wasn’t harnessed to the ship, he could easily go overboard and be lost forever. Skeletons don’t float; he would sink immediately, not to mention that the water of the huge lake was freezing in November and the skeleton was unconscious. They’d never get him back if he went over now, even if the storm stopped immediately.

You seemed to realize all of that as well. You pushed off the deck to move quicker, throwing a shield in front of Black to stop him from moving further from you. When you reached him, you wrapped your arms around him and held tightly. Edge felt his soul unclench a little, but you were in the middle of a storm. Surely you couldn’t actually hold him tightly enough to actually keep him from going overboard and making your way back to Mutt to get his carabiner would be nearly impossible.

Your camera panned down and Edge saw Black’s unconscious face. He winced at the marrow that was leaking from a fresh crack that spider-webbed across the skeleton’s left eye. Then, your camera looked at your hands. One arm was still wrapped around Black; the other was holding--

“Ellie, put your damn tether back on!” Stretch screamed, but you either didn’t hear him or ignored him. You snapped it onto Black’s harness and clung tightly to him. 

At the same moment that you lifted your hand to begin pulling yourself back to Mutt, another wave rocked the ship. You yelped as something--perhaps a piece of rigging? Edge couldn’t tell--struck you in the head. The shield that you’d thrown up to stop Black disappeared immediately and you flew backward. Your back hit the railing of the ship, but your hands failed to find a grip and you went over the side.

Mutt screamed your name over the crackling thunder, then everything was silent.

The monitors were blank. Your camera feeds were gone, your vitals were gone, the allimagic was gone. Everything disappeared. For a moment, Edge thought something went wrong with their set up; surely the equipment was broken to have lost everything at once like that. Once glance at his husband proved him wrong on that point. Stretch was staring at the screens with both hands over his mouth. His breathing hitched and Edge realized that silent orange tears were rolling down his cheekbones. The equipment was not broken; the entire team was just… Gone. 

Edge pulled him into his embrace and buried his face in the crook of Stretch’s neck, taking deep breaths. He needed to force back these emotions, let strategy take over, but for just a moment he allowed himself to feel fear and sorrow. At the moment, he had no idea where two of his family members were, but they were likely still on the boat at least, even if it was in a pocket dimension or some other alliumede bullshit. You, though… You hit the water. They saw you. That water was freezing, even if there wasn’t a storm raging. Even if you were conscious (and Edge could not be sure that you were) and you managed to stay afloat, you would succumb to the freezing temperatures in less than a half hour. Maybe just a touch longer because you were a mage, not a human, but either way that was not long enough.

He counted to four, breathing in and out on each number, then slowly pulled back from Stretch. “I have to call the king,” Edge told his husband gently. “I’ll need the plane.”

“You’re going up there?” Stretch asked.

“I have to. We can’t just… Black and Mutt, at least, are out there. Someone has to find them.”

“I’m coming with you,” Stretch said.

“No,” Edge said. He grimaced at the fury that crossed Stretch’s face, but before his husband could lash out, he tried to explain. “Love, you working here makes more sense. All of your equipment is here. If you are going to figure out what that storm was, it is likely going to be here.” He kissed Stretch’s forehead. “We both have to do our jobs now. They’re depending on us. We can’t let our emotions run off with us.”

Stretch buried his face in Edge’s chest but nodded after a minute. Edge pulled away from Stretch reluctantly, but he had to take his own advice. Right now, the Swapfell brothers were in danger, and he’d be damned if he would lose them because he couldn’t think straight. He turned to find Red leaning against the stairs. “Already talked to Fluffybuns,” Red said casually. “Sans shortcut home to grab some necessities. Five shortcuts to the airport an’ we’ll be there in two hours.”

Edge nodded. He turned and kissed Stretch one more time before he headed upstairs. They had work to do.


	27. The Gales of November [pt. 2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving is here, but the Scooby Gang isn't. The other skeletons handle their disappearance as well as they can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went a little nuts with this one! I've been planning to do a 'Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald' spooky wreck thing for Thanksgiving since I found out the ship went down in November. It got a little long and a lot out of control, so these connected chapters are covering the following prompts: Recovery (like recovering stuff from a shipwreck, get it?), Junk Food, and Movie Night.
> 
> TW for all chapters: Mentions of vomiting, references to cannibalism, mentions of hunger/starvation, descriptions of past horrific injuries (they're healed, but the results are described), mentions of marrow in reference to a current injury, mentions of drowning
> 
> Remember that everything always turns out alright in the end in Nightlights!

This Black Friday was arguably the worst one Jupiter had experienced since coming to the surface. After Edge, Sans, and Red hastily rushed out, explaining there had been an incident and they’d be back when they could, the others didn’t want to go home. They all stayed gathered in the dining room for quite awhile before Mars suggested a movie and they all moved to the living room. Eventually, they all fell into an uneasy sleep, all hoping to hear good news, but Stretch didn’t come out of the basement and Edge didn’t call. Even Papyrus couldn’t get any information from Sans, and it all gave Jupiter a very bad feeling. The Scooby Gang’s work was certainly fairly secret, but nothing like  _ this _ had ever happened before. 

Jupiter woke early, unable to sleep, so he wandered into the kitchen to see about making breakfast for the family. None of them were going anywhere any time soon, so he figured he may as well feed them. He was surprised to find Mars sitting at the table in the kitchen, staring at something on his phone. “Brother,” Jupiter said, “you are awake early!” He said it with excitement, but a quieter excitement than normal. Any behavior that was outside the norm for his brother had to be carefully handled; there was always the chance he was having some sort of episode. It wouldn’t be surprising after all of the stress; Mars was very fond of the three of you, after all, particularly since they started working with Mutt more frequently.

Mars looked up from his phone and Jupiter was pleased to see that his brother’s eye light looked normal (well. Normal for him now, since… Well.). He probably wasn’t having an episode. He furrowed his brow and looked back down at his phone again.

“Is there a problem, brother?” Jupiter asked. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out some eggs. 

He sighed. “It’s Ellie. ‘Fore she left she asked me ta do ‘er a favor in case they weren’ back for Thanksgivin’.”

“What was the favor?” Jupiter asked.

“She put together these… uh… baskets? Of food? An’ she planned ta take ‘em ta people on Thanksgiving ta make sure they had stuff. She asked me ta take ‘em out if she wasn’ back.”

“And did you?”

“I forgot ‘til now,” Mars admitted. Jupiter glanced over and saw that his brother’s face was dusted blue and he looked ashamed. “I put it in my phone, but with e’erythin’ yesterday, I didn’ check it.”

“Well,” Jupiter said slowly, “is there some reason we couldn’t just do it today?”

Mars blinked at him slowly. “But it ain’ Thanksgivin’ anymore.”

“I hardly think anyone would be disappointed to receive food any day of the year,” Jupiter said, and he knew his brother understood that. “Who are we supposed to take them to?”

“Uh…” Mars tapped his phone and then held it out to Jupiter. “She made us a list. Said she labeled all the stuff an’ put where ta find e’eryone.”

Jupiter knew most names on the list and the ones he didn’t, he was sure would be pleasant to meet! He nodded. “We will go directly after breakfast,” he said. “Now. What kind of omelette would you like?”

“Yer so cool, bro,” Mars said happily.

***

Just over an hour later, Jupiter was parking his red convertible in your driveway and using your spare key to let himself in. Mars insisted he could just teleport them inside, and Jupiter had no doubt that he could, but it was so lazy! The two fluff balls (and one feathery one) that lived at your house sprinted up to him and danced around his feet, making small noises. “Hello small friends!” he said happily. “Do not worry; I will check that you have food and water before we leave!” He knelt down to give each pet a few gentle pets, then advanced to your kitchen where Mars was already looking over the baskets neatly lined up on your counter. He checked the food and water bowls while his brother rattled (ha!) off the list of baskets. 

“We got that giant bat--”

“Bartok,” Jupiter supplied. The bat was very kind and he was grateful they helped free it, but the time that Mars was trapped in the void while doing so had been some of the worst of his life. Not knowing whether or not he’d come back… It felt too much like being back in the Underground for his comfort.

“Uh, yeah, Bartok,” Mars said. “An’ the new skeleton bros at the hospital. They got nicknames yet?”

“No,” Jupiter answered.

“K. Them. An’ this one says ‘Hitchhiker’ an’ has a specific coordinate to drop it off. Dunno ‘bout that one. Someone named Devon?” Mars dropped the list when your pigeon swooped down and landed on the edge of the crack in his skull. The skeleton flailed a little and cursed, but the bird didn’t seem to mind. It settled in and began making soft cooing noises.

“Shit! Get it off!” Mars yelped.

“Brother! The bird likes you,” he said with a laugh.

“It’ll peck my skull! Bro, come on!”

“He certainly will not! Danny Butterman is a very well-behaved pigeon. Just pet him. He may let you pick him up.”

Mars reached up slowly and stroked the pigeon. It cooed and pecked at his phalanges gently. Finally, Mars scooped the bird up and removed it from his skull. Instead of putting down, like Mars expected him to, he clutched it to his chest and petted it. “It’s, uh, a cool bird,” he said softly.

“He is,” Jupiter agreed. “Now, back to the list.”

“Right,” Mars said. “Uh, some guy named Devon?”

“That’s the priest that blesses the holy water for them.”

“Oh. K. Agent Marcie an’ her partner… An’ I think that’s it.”

“Alright,” Jupiter said easily, though his soul twisted at the mention of the agents. He knew that you were just doing your jobs and they were just doing theirs, but they were the ones who sent you on this particular mission. What if you really didn’t come back and they were delivering a food basket to the agents that were responsible for your deaths? He swallowed back the uncomfortable panic growing in his throat.

“Bro?” Mars asked. “Ya ok?”

“What if they don’t come back?” he blurted out. “What if the reason Edge hasn’t called is that they’re dead and he doesn’t want to tell us?” He gripped the counter tightly and fought back tears. He had seen so many people die over the years. His whole universe, everyone he knew there, was lost forever as well, and he just did not want to lose anyone else.

He felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder, gentle and loving as always. “Look, I won’ say they’re fine, ‘cause I dunno an’ we don’ lie or keep secrets anymore,” he said, “but I do know they’re real hard ta kill. An’, even if the worst happened, we’d still have each other. We’d help each other through it.”

Jupiter took a shaky breath and nodded. “You’re right, of course. They… They are a very difficult group to kill.”

“Come on,” Mars said, “let’s go give out these baskets fer Ellie.”

Jupiter nodded and followed his brother out of your house.

***

**STOP ONE:**

Delivering baskets turned out to be a worthy distraction. Part of him wondered if you did that on purpose; did you try to give them something else to do besides worry about your team just in case of something like this? It was more likely that you did this every year and he just didn’t know that about you. The two of you didn’t hang out nearly as much as he would have liked, though he did understand. You were both very, very busy. In fact, he had a shift at the hospital later yet tonight and would have to rely on the rest of the family to keep him updated.

He and his brother started with the places they would have to teleport in order to deliver the baskets. At first, he wondered why you asked Mars to handle basket distribution in your absence, but the logic made sense to him now. Mars was the only remaining teleporter; you took into account that Sans, Red, and Stretch would all be unavailable if something happened to your team. He couldn’t help but wonder how often you did little things like that, little “just in case” decisions that no one noticed. Did you think about your own death that often, so often that you considered it in even the smallest decisions that you made? That worried Jupiter, and he promised himself that he would discuss it with you when you returned.

The brothers’ first stop was to the strange coordinates that you left behind on the ‘Hitchhiker’ basket. They stepped out of the shortcut and Jupiter looked around. They were in a field at the very edge of a huge, dark forest.

“Note says ta jus’ call out into the forest an’ then stick the basket in there but not go in ourselves,” Mars said. “You know who this is?”

“I do not,” Jupiter said, “but it is probably best we follow the instructions.” He had a louder voice than his brother, so he called out, “Hello! Hitchhiker? We think you are a friend of our friend, Eleanor? She asked us to bring you a Thanksgiving basket. We are going to leave it here, at the edge of the forest.” Mars stepped forward and set the basket just inside the tree line. A thick fog shot up in the forest and he jerked his hand back, eye light shrinking at the sight. Jupiter felt the aborted shortcut that his brother nearly yanked him into. The fog enveloped the basket and then just… disappeared, along with the gift. 

“Uh…” Mars said slowly, then shook his head. “The fuck was that?”

“Language,” Jupiter said, “but I have no  _ fogging _ idea.”

Mars snorted and Jupiter was proud of himself. 

**STOP TWO:**

The next stop was the office that Agents Marcie and Tess worked out of. The building had a happy sign declaring it “Krazy Kool Kupkakes”; it was a lovely little bakery that always had the most interesting and odd combinations of flavors. It was on the outskirts of Ebbott, so Jupiter had never been to the actual building, though you often showed up at his house with a cupcake each for him and his brother, smiling and declaring that they were “courtesy of the US government, gods bless America”. 

The small human at the front counter’s smile didn’t falter a bit when Jupiter and Mars stepped into the bakery. They looked up at them and said brightly, “Hi! What can I get for you today?”

“We are actually here to talk to your manager,” Jupiter said, using the code phrase that you included in the instructions you left taped to the basket.

“Oh,” the human said. “Did you make an appointment?”

“No,” Jupiter admitted. “But we are close with Eleanor, Mutt, and Black? Eleanor wanted us to bring them a Thanksgiving basket.”

They perked up at that. “You can leave it with me if you like.”

“Alright,” Jupiter said easily. “Are they not in today?”

“Nope,” the human answered. “They’re out handling some business.”

“Of course,” Jupiter said, and handed over the basket. 

The two of them turned to leave, but the human called out, “Hey!”

They both turned around and Jupiter could feel his brother’s magic coil uneasily, but Jupiter smiled as warmly as he could (thank the gods for the braces that sorted out his teeth!). “Yes?” he asked.

The human fidgeted with the basket uncomfortably, then finally said, “I heard. About your friends? They’re cool. We all like them around here. I just… I just wanted to say that I hope they’re okay.”

Jupiter felt his smile falter a little. “Thank you,” he said finally. “I’m sure it will all work out.”

“Yeah,” the human said glumly. 

Without another word, Jupiter turned and strode out of the bakery, desperately trying not to see how unhopeful the little human’s face was.

**STOP THREE:**

“El said that Stretch’d get ahold o’ Bartok for us,” Mars said, looking around the forest where Stretch said to go.

“He must have. How else would he know to tell us where to go?” Jupiter said.

“Right, but where’s the bat?” Mars asked.

“He has a name,” Jupiter corrected irritably. 

Just then, the trees overhead began whipping in a sudden blast of wind. Both skeletons looked up and were treated to the sight of the white bat gliding down between the trees to land in front of them. The old bat looked exactly the same as Jupiter remembered from that night in the field. Perhaps a little plumper, a little healthier, but otherwise just as solemn as that evening. He alighted in front of them and tucked his huge wings to his body, dipping his head down so that he could look at the skeletons.

“Hello!” Jupiter said happily.

“Greetings. The computer one said that you have need of me,” the bat said.

“Oh! Actually, we are just delivering you a Thanksgiving basket,” Jupiter said. “Ellie asked us to!”

The bat seemed to perk up a little at the mention of your name. “The mage? What is the Thanksgiving?”

“‘S a human holiday,” Mars said. “E’erybody gets together to eat food.”

The bat nodded. “What is the basket of Thanksgiving?”

“It is something that Ellie thought you would like, I guess,” Jupiter said. “I’m not sure exactly what is in the basket, but--”

“She said she wanted ta make sure e’ryone knew that someone cared,” Mars interrupted softly.

Bartok looked at the smaller skeleton for a moment, then said, “Where is the mage?”

Mars’s head snapped up and he blushed blue. “She’s… She’s on a mission,” he said.

“But she is in danger,” Bartok said. It wasn’t a question.

“We don’t know,” Jupier admitted. “Only that she and the others aren’t back yet.”

Bartok nodded. “Would you please ask the computer one to tell me when they return safe? I owe them a great debt.”

“We will,” Jupiter promised. Mars nodded beside him.

That seemed to satisfy Bartok. The bat carefully took the comically small basket in his mouth and took flight with it. The two brothers watched silently as the bat left, and Jupiter’s soul felt heavy.

**STOP FOUR:**

If Jupiter were totally honest, he’d been avoiding the two new skeleton brothers. He knew that they were from a world like his and that he should help them, but… He remembered how he and Mars looked when they first arrived in this universe, how broken and battered they were, and he just… couldn’t. He didn’t want to remember those days, didn’t want to risk triggering a panic attack. He was doing much better and the idea of confronting his past in such a literal form… Well, he just didn’t know if he was strong enough. Tack on the fact that these particular skeletons were from a  _ Fellverse _ that was also like his and he just could not imagine how damaged they were.

_ But what if they really weren’t worse off than him and he found out that he was actually fundamentally broken beyond what his world had done to him? _

“Bro, I can jus’ take it up if ya want,” Mars said, startling Jupiter from his thoughts. “I don’ mind.”

Jupiter knew that was true. His brother had even visited a few times with Red and Black, had something of a friendship forming with the new Sans even. Jupiter was glad that his brother found companionship here, he really was.

And he wanted to be better.

“No,” he said resolutely. “I’m going in.”

“Ya sure?”

“Yes,” he said in a much firmer voice than he actually felt, but Mars accepted it. He simply nodded and pushed open the door to the mental health center and led the way up to the Horrorfell brothers’ room.

They paused outside the door, Mars letting his brother gather himself, before knocking. They waited a few seconds before the door flew open and, for a moment, Jupiter was sure he was looking at Red. The monster before him looked almost exactly like the Fell monster. The only real difference was his broken teeth and the murkier red of his magic. Otherwise, this monster could have easily been their friend.

“Heya,” Mars said. “This’s my bro. Can we come in?”

The new Sans glanced up a Jupiter, then grunted and stepped out of the way.

Nothing could have prepared Jupiter for the sight of his counterpart. He knew that he looked bad when they arrived here, all gaunt and broken teeth, but this version of him was  _ so much worse. _ The monster was shorter than him, not much taller than Edge, actually, and wore black pajamas that he was sure Black or Edge brought in for him. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed holding a Rubik’s cube. All of that was fine, adorable even.

It was the lack of a jaw and the gaping head wound that made Jupiter freeze in his tracks. That his lower jaw missing was downright disturbing.  _ How does that even happen _ , his mind demanded, but he knew he didn’t actually want the answer.  _ How did he eat? Could he talk? How-- _

He forced his mind off that track, but it unfortunately latched onto the head wound to worry over next. It was massive, bigger even than Mars’s wound. It spanned the whole top left section of his skull, extending down below where his socket once was and all the way around the back of his head. He knew from experience how much Mars’s head wound had affected him and, staring at his counterpart, he couldn’t fathom how the monster was even  _ alive _ .

“Killed da bitch that did da head wound,” the new Sans said coldly behind Jupiter. “An’ I don’ care if yer him, he don’ need ya starin’.”

“S-sorry,” Jupiter managed. “Hello, I’m--”

“Mars’s bro,” the new Sans finished. “I guessed. Whaddya want?”

The new Papyrus set the Rubik’s cube down and his hands moved rapidly. It took Jupiter a moment to realize that he knew exactly what the monster was signing; he knew how to speak in hands, even if it was incredibly rusty from years of disuse. 

_ Don’t be rude! _ the monster signed at his brother.

“‘E was starin,” Sans grumbled.

_ Well, I can understand that! I am him, after all.  _ The monster turned to Jupiter and signed,  _ Sorry for my brother, other-me. _

“It’s no trouble,” Jupiter said. “I was being rude. I’m Jupiter.”

_ It is nice to meet you! _

“You as well.”

Mars cleared his nonexistent throat and spoke up. “Brought ya some Thanksgiving treats.” He held the basket out and the new Sans approached it with obvious interest.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Eh… It’s food o’ some kind,” Mars said with a shrug.

The new Papyrus darted past Jupiter and took a look at the basket too. He made an excited-sounding grunt and grabbed out some new puzzle books and puzzle toys. He ran back to the bed with them and spread them out, looking each of them over like it was a treasure. Jupiter remembered feeling that way when they got here; that everything was a valuable resource that should be adored.

“Thanks,” the new Sans said, happily munching on a Twinke he found in the basket. “Made ‘is day.”

“Wasn’ our idea,” Mars said, “but we’re glad ta do it.”

“Yeah? Whose idea was it? Black’s?”

Mars shook his head. “Ellie.”

The new Sans stopped midbite and frowned at Mars. “The mage?” he growled.

“Yep,” Mars said, popping the ‘p’ like an asshole. “Said she wanted e’eryone to know someone cared on Thanksgiving.”

“An’ why did’ she bring it ‘erself?” New Sans scoffed.

Jupiter really didn’t mean to snap, didn’t even totally understand why he did. Perhaps it was all of the stress of the last two days, perhaps it was the strain of meeting these counterparts. Maybe he just wasn’t interested in hearing someone be an asshole to you when all you had done was kindly send them a basket of food. They were from a universe like his; they  _ knew _ the value of food, more than any of the other counterparts, and you were here  _ sharing _ it with them. “She’s missing,” Jupiter said angrily. “Her whole team is. She asked us to bring these out in case they did not make it back, and we gave you yours.” 

He made to grab the door, to escape before he completely lost his temper, but the new Sans caught his arm. “Missin’?” he asked.

“You made it very clear that you don’t care about Ellie even though she cares about you,” Jupiter said coldly. “Why do you care?”

“Ya said ta whole team too?”

“Yes.”

The new Sans looked away and his brow furrowed. “Even Black?”

Jupiter sighed. He was mad that this new skeleton would dare to dislike you, but he couldn’t stay angry when faced with someone wearing his brother’s face looking that miserable. “Yes, but I’m sure they will be alright.”

The new Sans looked down at the Twinkie in his hand. “Black’s been good ta us,” he said softly.

“I know.”

“Will ya… Will ya tell us? If he don’ come back?” he asked.

Jupiter immediately felt awful for his outburst. “Of course we will,” he said gently.

The other Sans nodded and went back to eating his Twinkie.


	28. The Gales of November [pt. 3]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving is here, but the Scooby Gang isn't. The other skeletons handle their disappearance as well as they can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went a little nuts with this one! I've been planning to do a 'Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald' spooky wreck thing for Thanksgiving since I found out the ship went down in November. It got a little long and a lot out of control, so these connected chapters are covering the following prompts: Recovery (like recovering stuff from a shipwreck, get it?), Junk Food, and Movie Night.
> 
> TW for all chapters: Mentions of vomiting, references to cannibalism, mentions of hunger/starvation, descriptions of past horrific injuries (they're healed, but the results are described), mentions of marrow in reference to a current injury, mentions of drowning
> 
> Remember that everything always turns out alright in the end in Nightlights!

After nearly 41 hours in the tiny boat that Agent Marcie provided, Edge had to admit that the hope he had stubbornly clung to thus far was starting to wane. No other squalls had risen on the lake, nor had any allimagic shown up. There were some hints of green allimagic, but they all agreed that seemed to be a glitch in the system. No one had ever seen green allimagic, after all. Stretch theorized that it could be benevolent beings, possibly, but it was more likely that it was just a mistaken reading.

They had tried everything they could think of and nothing yielded any evidence of the Scooby Gang. Agent Marcie (with a new partner in tow) had arrived only a few hours after Edge, Red, and Sans deplaned. They brought with them all of the equipment that the government had to offer in the search and every bit of it was crammed onto the boat. Edge didn’t understand any of the equipment himself, but Sans and Red both seemed enamored with it and Agent Marcie’s new partner seemed perfectly competent. Her name was Agent Tess, a tall woman with dark hair that she wore swooped back in a handsome bun. She was older than Agent Marcie, probably, and seemed to be the one in charge of all of the equipment they brought with them. She was very serious; Edge hadn’t seen her smile yet, no matter how much Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum tried to get her to laugh at their jokes. He even saw her smack their hands away from various pieces of equipment, which gave Edge a healthy respect for her. Anyone who could put any of the Sanses in their place deserved at least a bit of respect.

He and Marcie took to standing on the deck and looking out over the water, watching for any sign of his lost team. There were helicopters searching for you, as well as other boats with search and rescue teams, but with each passing hour, Edge was less and less hopeful about the chances of finding you alive. The water was so cold and he saw you get hit over the head as well. You may have been unconscious or even already dead when you hit the water. Stretch checked the archived vitals and reported that he didn’t think so, but he had no way of knowing, not for sure.

Really, your only hope was that you were pulled into the pocket dimension with the others. Perhaps whatever waited in that dimension had warmer water and you were rescued there. The fact that your vitals disappeared at the same time as the others made a good argument for that being exactly what had happened.

Of course, the odds of that dimension being better than this one were slim; after all, the huge storm had disappeared along with the boat and crew.

“Boss!” Red yelled, snapping Edge to attention. His brother appeared beside him and manhandled a carabiner onto the harness Edge was already wearing. “Stretch’s pickin’ up gatherin’ allimagic. Worried it might be a storm like they hit.”

“Everyone gets hooked in  _ now _ ,” Edge ordered. He spun to see that Sans was already hooking Agent Marcie in. He looked down and saw that they both already had hooks on themselves. “Get her to the cabin,” he ordered Sans, who gave him a sloppy salute and grabbed her before yanking her into the void. “If the storm starts, you teleport both of us to the cabin,” he ordered his brother, grabbing his arm and making his way back towards safety.

The storm was as sudden as reports said the first one was. The skies were completely clear, the wind was calm, and then suddenly they were in the middle of a roaring storm. The boat pitched hard under their feet and Edge felt his brother catch him and pull him into the void. They stumbled out and into the cabin, where all of the other crew members were kneeling. Luckily, Agent Tess secured all of her equipment when she arrived on the boat so there were no computer monitors flying around the cabin as the ship was whipped around.

Edge managed to keep himself from throwing up, but only just. The nausea he always felt when he teleported was only exacerbated by the roiling waves. Wildly, he worried that they would sink; it wasn’t unusual for ships to go down on this lake at this time of year and skeletons don’t swim. They were all in bright life jackets, but how much help would that really be?

The deck pitched again and he slammed into the table. He briefly considered sinking to the floor, but he wanted to be able to see out the windows of the cabn. He hoped that he’d be able to see what the hell was going on outside, but the rain was so heavy that it was impossible to see anything, just like it had been in your cameras just before you disappeared. 

“Tess, drop the dimensional anchor!” Agent Marcie yelled over the wind.

Agent Tess pushed herself up so that she could grab the computer. She typed frantically, trying to deploy what Red had assured Edge would keep them in this dimension if this exact scenario arose. Edge elected to not worry about that process; it’s not like he could help if something went wrong. He focused on keeping watch out the window trying to see anything through the torrential downpour and keeping the coffee that his magic hadn’t totally incorporated from making another appearance. 

He felt magic cackle through the air and it wasn’t the magic of any of the monsters. It felt… Strange. He recognized it as mage magic, but it felt somehow artificial as well. There was a loud crack and the ship shook even more violently for a few seconds. Edge lost his feet for a moment and had to drop into a crouch to keep from falling.

Then everything stilled.

“Report!” Edge barked.

“Everyone looks fine,” Red said. “An’ looks like the dimensional anchor worked. Stretch, ya can still hear us, right?”

“Yeah,” Stretch said, and Edge’s soul clenched at how scared he sounded. That must have been terrifying for him. 

“There’s something on the radar,” Agent Tess said.

“What? I don’t see any magic on mine,” Stretch said.

“No, not the magic one. The normal one. Look.” She was pointing at one of the screens. Edge looked, and it appeared that she was correct. There was a blip on the radar. 

“Another boat?” Sans asked.

“Appears to be,” Agent Tess said.

“Wait! I’ve got allimagic,” Stretch yelped over the coms. “Not a storm though. It’s like… There’s some red over by that boat. And those green dots? They’re moving.”

“What?” Everyone said in unison.

“I mean, I didn’ stutter,” Stretch muttered.

Edge stepped out of the cabin and onto the deck. The weather was exactly the same as it had been before the storm; cold and gray but without any evidence of a storm. In the distance, Edge could see a small boat that appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “Stretch! Do you have the vitals for the Scooby Gang pulled up?” Edge asked.

“No, hold on,” Stretch said. Edge could hear the clacking of keyboard keys followed by the sharp intake of breath. “It’s them! Mutt and Black! They’re ok! I mean, they’re low on magic, and Sans is definitely injured, but they’re ok!” Edge would have had to be deaf to not hear the tears in Stretch’s voice.

“Red!” Edge yelled.

“I heard ‘im! We’re headed that way!” Red yelled back. Edge felt the boat shift under him as the little boat changed bearing and headed for the other boat. Red and Sans both joined him on deck and all three skeletons squinted at the boat. 

Red tapped Edge’s shoulder and he turned to look down at his brother. He raised a brow at him, surprised at the physical contact. Red began speaking in hands. When he saw what his brother was saying, he was grateful that he wasn’t saying it outloud where Stretch could hear him. He carefully adjusted his stance so that the camera that he wore wouldn’t pick up his brother’s signing.

_ Stretch didn’t say nothin’ about the mage, _ he signed.  _ Her vitals must not have come back on. _

_ So… What? You think she’s stuck in the pocket dimension?  _ Edge signed back.

_ That’s the best-case scenario,  _ Sans signed. 

_ We just need to be prepared to tell everyone if…  _ Red’s hands paused.

_ If she’s dead, _ Edge finished for him. He refused to shy away from the possibility. It wouldn’t help anyone if he didn’t face it head on. His soul did flinch at the idea of how Black would handle the news (not to mention Stretch) but he would be there. They would get through it. If they had to.

_ Gods, he hoped they didn’t have to. _

Edge could hear Black yelling before he ever saw him or Mutt. There were flashes of purple magic lighting up the deck of the boat, as well as some sort of black and green glows that filled the air with the feeling of… wrongness. There was no other way to explain it. “Get us over there,” he barked at Red, sudden worry gripping his soul. He didn’t know what was going on over there, but he was not about to lose Black or Mutt, too.

Red didn’t argue, surprisingly. Perhaps the possibility of losing more of his little family was weighing on him more than he let on. “I’m going with you!” Agent Marcie called, running out of the cabin. She drew a weapon from her holster and skidded forward to grab hold of Sans’s arm. 

“Fine, fine. Don’ die,” Red said, and Edge was yanked into the void behind him. 

They appeared on the deck of the other ship and immediately Edge was forced face down on the deck as a blast of magic exploded over his head. That was enough to snap him out of his post-shortcut stupor and he rolled to the side and out from under Red’s grasp. His brother was on his feet too, already taking aim at…

_ What the hell was that? _

It was some sort of huge octopus-like monstrosity, taller than two Edges stood on top of one another, and as wide as the whole boat. It wasn’t so much black as totally devoid of light. It looked like it just absorbed the light and reflected none back. It had huge tentacles, writhing and trying to grab the skeletons already engaged with it. It kept shooting out emerald blasts of magic, causing huge holes in the hull of the ship. Edge paused to worry about the structural integrity of the boat; it would be important to--

“Edge! Move!” Black barked at him, breaking him out of his thoughts. Just in time, it turned out. Edge jumped backward to avoid one of the huge grabbing tentacles. He responded by summoning his scythe and slashing through it. The thing screamed and the tentacle writhed before reattaching. 

Well. That was less than helpful.

“It’s getting its power from the book!” Black yelled. “One of the crew wished to survive the storm and well--” he gestured to the alliumede-- “and, well, he did.”

“Shoulda been more specific,” Mutt said. “An’ we got four minutes!” In response to that, Sans grunted and fired another wild blast of magic at the thing.

“Where’s the damn book?” Red yelled.

“Got it!” Edge called. It was at the base of the beast and getting it was going to be dangerous. He had the highest HP of everyone onboard so…

He ran towards the alliumede, ducking under tentacles and dodging blasts of magic from both the creature and his comrades. He cut off several tentacles with his bone scythe and he dropped into a slide so that he skidded to a stop directly in front of the thing. He started to bring his scythe down on the ornate book in front of him, but the alliumede clipped him in the shoulder with one of its tentacles. He reeled back and another tentacle wrapped around his spine and ripped him into the air. He managed to catch the edge (ha!) of the book with his boot and sent it flying too, causing the alliumede to squeal and shake even harder.

It felt like time stopped while everyone else tried to figure out what to do about him being captured. Red and Sans both hesitated to fire their blasters and Mutt and Black both froze as well, their hands glowing with summoned magic. The only one who didn’t freeze was Marcie. She aimed the gun in her hand at the book that was flying through the air and pulled the trigger once, twice, thrice. Three white laser bullets that looked like smaller versions of what their Gaster blasters could do connected with the book. It immediately began to twist and melt into black and green goo. The tentacle that held Edge writhed as the alliumede screamed. Before he could react, even with his exceptional reaction time, he was in the air and then plummeting towards the water below. 

He braced himself for the cold, but it never came. He opened his sockets and saw that he was hovering over the surface of the water, his soul blue in his chest. 

“Bro!” Red yelled, leaning over the railing and looking down. “Ya ok?”

“Yes! If you could bring me up, please!” He felt his brother’s magic adjust and then lift him back up to the deck and set him down gently. Edge looked around at his compatriots who all looked incredibly tense. Just as he was about to speak, Mutt’s phone went off.

“Thirty minutes,” Black said. “It’s been thirty minutes. We have to find her!” He spun around to Edge and said, “Eleanor went overboard before we got sucked into that damned pocket dimension! But we’ve only been gone thirty minutes! She should be fine as long as we can find her immediately!”

“Bro--” Mutt began, but Black shoved past him and ran to the edge of the deck and peered overboard. Edge kept his magic at the ready in case Black tried something stupid and approached his friend cautiously.

“Black,” he said. When the skeleton didn’t look at him, Edge put a hand on his shoulder. “Black, you know it’s been longer than that if I’m here,” he said gently.

Black looked over at him with pinprick eye lights. “No,” he said firmly. “We set a timer.”

“Time passed differently there,” Edge said.

“Are you telling me that she is dead?” he asked. His voice was dangerously cold and Edge recognized it as very similar to the voice he always used when he first came to this ‘verse. At that moment, Black could have stepped straight out of Swapfell, his back rigid and his eye lights blazing. It had been years since he’d looked so much like Captain Says of the Swapfell Royal Guard, and it made Edge’s soul ache to see him reverting back to that now.

“I’m telling you that you aren’t going to find her right there,” Edge said. “We have boats and helicopters out looking for her. If she is out there, they will find her.”

Black shook his head. “She’s fine,” he said. “I just need to find her.”

“What you need is to get your ass back over here so we can treat that crack in your skull,” Edge told him.

“You think I give a shit about this crack?” Black snarled. “I don’t give a shit if I have a headwound the size of Mars’s, Eleanor is out there! So if you’re not going to help find her, just get the hell out of my way.” He turned from Edge and continued scanning the surface of the water, shuddering off Edge’s hand from his shoulder.

“Hey guys,” Stretch said over the com. “The, uh, green stuff on the allimagic-dar? It’s approaching you.”

Edge became alert, scanning the horizon for any evidence of magic, but he found none. Mutt gasped sharply at his side and he turned to see what the skeleton was looking at. Edge froze and blinked at the sight.

Peeking up out of the water were two skeletal faces that he would recognize anywhere. One of them looked very much like his husband, Papyrus, and Jupiter; the other, a dead ringer for Comic. His jaw fell open as he stared at them in surprise.

“Greetings,” the Papyrus-y one said. “We must thank you. You have ended the curse upon these waters.”

“What?” Edge managed.

“These waters are ones where life has always sprung, but the great evil that you destroyed today was poisoning our waters. You destroyed it, freeing us from its reign of terror. We cannot thank you enough, but we hope that we can show our gratitude in one way.” The Papyrus waved his hand and the Sans lifted his arms, revealing that he was carrying a bundle of some kind.

“Eleanor?” Black said softly, then louder. “Eleanor!” He glared down at the monsters in the water. “Why do you have her? Is she alright?”

“The evil tried to take her and use her soul to increase its power,” the Papyrus said. “We took her beyond its reach and kept her safe. Since it has been defeated, we can return the mage to you.” Black was just staring, so Edge held out his hand and turned your soul blue. He heard Stretch gasp in his ear when he did.

“Ellie’s stats are back! Her body temp is real low and so is her heart rate, but she’s alive!”

Edge lifted you out of the monster’s arms and floated you up so that you were hovering in front of Black. That seemed to get his attention. He reached out and grabbed you, pulling you close to him. He didn’t even look at the monsters again as he carried you off to the cabin. Sans was in there already, so he could assume that you were in good hands there. He turned back to the monsters in the water. “What are you?” he asked finally.

“We are… We are not what you think we are,” the Papyrus said finally.

“Ya look like mermaid versions o’ us,” Red said.

“We are not. We take on the appearance of something comfortable for those seeing us. It is interesting that you are seeing yourselves.”

Edge ran a check on the Papyrus and was surprised to find that there was no data to read. He blinked and then looked down at him. “You have no soul,” he said finally.

“We do not.” 

“You’re alliumedes,” Edge said softly.

“That is your word for us, yes. But we do not mean you or your little boats any harm. We came when we sensed the mage’s magic, knowing that the evil would try to take her soul. When she fell into the water, we encased her in our magic to protect her from the darkness. She will recover fully. We will now escort you safely back to the land and then we will leave you.”

Edge eyed them suspiciously, but it seemed that there was no reason for them to lie. Shortly after, the two boats headed for the shore, flanked by the two alliumedes. Edge saw flashes of their tails, flared out and similar to fish. Their torsos were skeletal and very similar to his own skeletal structure. Instead of legs they had brown tails with light spots on them that flashed above the water as they swam. He couldn’t help but wonder what they really looked like if it was not this.

The psychological implications of seeing versions himself and his brother as comforting were not something he wished to consider either.

“Stretch?” Edge asked.

“Sup sexy?” Stretch shot back.

“You better have us on an individual channel if you want to start a flirtation war,” Edge said.

Stretch laughed. “I do, actually. What’s up? You ok? I saw ya fall and… and I’m just real glad Red caught you.”

“I am fine,” Edge said. “I didn’t even touch the water. Red has always had very good reflexes, and I have no doubt that the others were right behind him to catch me if he hadn’t.”

“Yeah,” Stretch said softly. “I really hate this fucking mission.”

Edge laughed. “Truer words,” he muttered. “But I wanted to ask you what your cameras saw when I was speaking with the alliumedes.”

“Oh! Yeah. Actually, it’s interesting. My cameras didn’t pick up anything. It looked like you were just talking to the water.”

“Really? Odd.”

“What do they look like to you?”

Edge sighed. He was never going to hear the end of this. “Mermaid versions of us.”

There was a beat of silence before his loving husband burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Mermedes!” he said. “They’re mermedes!”

Edge didn’t crack a smile, but it was a close thing. Instead, he looked back to the water. “I’m ready to get home. I miss you,” he said softly.

“I miss you, too. Not long now, though.”

Edge nodded. “No more boats.”

“Yeah, no more boats.”

***

Edge wanted to check on you, but he did not dare leave the deck while the alliumedes were present. True, they seemed truly harmless, but he had learned the hard way to never underestimate those around him. Black and Mutt were certainly in no state to be vigilant, so he did it for them, keeping a careful socket on the alliumedes.

It took nearly twenty minutes to reach the shore, but Edge found he was grateful when they finally did. He was exhausted and he hated boats, that much he knew. If he ever set foot on one of the blasted contraptions again, it would be too soon for him. 

Before the alliumedes left, the Papyrus one called out to him, “We owe you a great debt. If there is ever a way for us to repay, come to the water and call for us. We shall come.”

Edge nodded gravely and then the two of them were gone. Edge couldn’t be sure that they didn’t teleport with how quickly they disappeared from view, but he didn’t waste time worrying about it. He rushed back into the ship’s cabin to check on you. 

You were wrapped snugly in every blanket available, as well as all of the skeletons’ coats. You were still shivering as you lay unconscious in Black's arms, but Stretch was calling out your stats and they were improving dramatically. "Hey, she's up to a 97.7!" Stretch was saying as Edge entered the cabin with Red trailing behind. Sans looked up and slid over to stand by Red. "Dunno what those guys did," he said, "but she ain't even damp. 'S like they lowered her temp but kept her dry, like stasis or somethin'."

"So she is unharmed?" Edge asked. 

"Looks like it," Stretch said happily.

"And the other two?" Edge asked. He hadn't missed the new crack on Black's skull or how dull the magic that flowed through Mutt's joints was.

"Magic's low and HP's down a bit, but nothin' life-threatening," Stretch said.

"We're fine," Black murmured, hunched over you and stroking your hair gently. "We're just fine."


	29. The Gales of November [pt. 4 END]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving is here, but the Scooby Gang isn't. The other skeletons handle their disappearance as well as they can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went a little nuts with this one! I've been planning to do a 'Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald' spooky wreck thing for Thanksgiving since I found out the ship went down in November. It got a little long and a lot out of control, so these connected chapters are covering the following prompts: Recovery (like recovering stuff from a shipwreck, get it?), Junk Food, and Movie Night.
> 
> TW for all chapters: Mentions of vomiting, references to cannibalism, mentions of hunger/starvation, descriptions of past horrific injuries (they're healed, but the results are described), mentions of marrow in reference to a current injury, mentions of drowning
> 
> Remember that everything always turns out alright in the end in Nightlights!

Jupiter didn’t have a chance to check his phone for the duration of his shift at the hospital. It was a busy night, as was every night that followed a major holiday. It seemed that humans just could not be trusted to keep their wits about them on holidays. He had already assisted with several burn cases (deep frying turkeys), a couple of car accidents, and one lonely human who decided to try to take care of themselves by sticking things in orifices where they did not quite fit. 

He was  _ bone-tired _ when he checked back in at the nurse’s station after one of his last rounds. “Bed five is asking for more pain medicine, Kevin,” Jupiter told the head nurse.

The young man groaned irritably. “He knows that he can’t have any more for a few more hours! I’m sure it hurts, but damn! He’s being a real baby.”

“I could try some healing magic?” Jupiter suggested.

“Mm, thanks sugar, but I actually got a call from the monster wing. They asked if you could finish your shift over there tonight. I told ‘em yes since we have it locked down over here.”

“The monster floor?” Jupiter asked, anxiety welling up in his soul. “Is there a reason?”

Kevin shrugged. “Said the guy in charge asked for you personally. Have fun! I’ll see you back tomorrow night, right?”

“Yes.” Jupiter waved to Kevin absentmindedly and made his way over to the elevators that would take him to the monster wing. He couldn’t help but worry that someone he knew or cared about was coming in; that was the only reason that he could think that “the guy in charge” would ask for him. Who was that, anyway? King Asgore? Edge? Or the head of the monster medicine department? 

The nurse’s station had a smiling human woman working. “Oh! Hello, Jupiter,” she said happily.

“Hello, Lisa! I heard that this floor asked for me?”

“Yes, it’s--”

“It was me,” a familiar voice interrupted. Jupiter spun around to see Edge emerging from room 115. 

“You’re back!” Jupiter exclaimed. “Wait! The team. Are they okay? Why are you here? Who’s hurt? Are  _ you _ hurt?”

Edge held up a hand and Jupiter forced himself to stop talking. “The whole team was recovered and are going to be okay,” he said. Jupiter felt his soul soar when he heard that. “Ellie was brought in for observation and Black has a head injury that needs to be treated. He won’t let anyone touch him, which is why I called you. I was hoping you could try to heal him. Perhaps he will allow you to since you are a trusted family member.”

Jupiter squared his shoulders and nodded. “Of course. I would be honored to try.” Edge gestured to the room and the two approached the door. They both hesitated, though, when they heard talking inside. "Whasswrong?" they heard you murmur. You sounded sleepy, maybe drugged, but alive. Jupiter was so, so glad to hear your voice. 

"What do you remember?" That was Black.

You made a disgruntled noise at him. "Answering a question with a question's a form of deflection," you  recited word for word one of his catchphrases back at him.

Mutt (and Edge) chuckled softly. Mutt said, voice gentle and teasing, "She's gotcha there, bro."

There were a few seconds of silence, then, "I was cold," you said finally.

"Mmhmm," Sans said noncommittally. “What is the  _ last thing _ you remember?” he repeated, and Jupiter  shuddered at the bite that he heard in his voice. Black was  _ very _ unhappy.

"I fell in the lake," you said blankly. “But, babe, your eye--”

"Yes," Sans agreed, softly interrupting your concerned train of thought. "You fell in the lake because you  took your  _ fucking tether off _ and attached it to me." His voice was calm, but the words were icy.

"You would've drowned if you went over," you argued, "and clearly I survived just fine. Now, can we--"

"Do you know why?" he asked, that calm veneer slipping a bit. "Because there were gods damned mermaid alliumedes in the water! They put you in some sort of stasis that kept you alive down there for nearly two days! If they hadn't been there or if they hadn't intervened, you would be _dead_! _Do you_

_ understand me? _ " By the end of his little speech, he was flat out yelling at you.

Jupiter flinched and started to enter the room, determined to stop the yelling, but he felt two hands stopping him, one on his shoulder and one on his forearm. He glanced around and saw that both Edge and Mutt were shaking their heads at him. He blinked at Mutt, surprised that he didn’t hear him teleport, but he didn’t say anything.

"What was I supposed to do?" you snapped back with just as much venom. "Just let you drown?"

"Yes!" he snarled. "Yes, you were! I  _ never _ want you to sacrifice yourself for  _ me _ ! Not ever! I…" He trailed off a little, and when he started talking again, hopeless misery had replaced the raw anger in his voice. "I couldn't bear it. If I lost you. I… I just can't." Jupiter could hear his breathing hitch from the doorway.

"Sans…" you said softly.

"I was sure you were dead," he said, his voice so small and muffled by blankets. "Please," he whispered, "promise me. Promise me you won't ever do that again. Please."

"Love," you said gently, "I love you so much. And that's why I can't promise that. I can't lose you either." Jupiter could hear that you were both sniffling softly now.

"I love you so much," he said softly.

"I love you too, so we will both just have to stay alive."

He laughed, and Jupiter took that as his cue to enter the room. “Hello friends!” he said happily. “I am so glad that you are back! We were all so worried about you!” He bustled around the room, checking vitals and fussily arranging things, giving you both time to compose yourselves a little.

After a moment, he turned to the two of you. He could see the damp tear tracks running down Black’s face, but he seemed much calmer now. He smiled. “Now, I was told that a patient is refusing treatment.”

“Oh,” you said, looking over at Black, “he’s done doing that now. Aren’t you, babe?”

Black sighed. “Yes, yes. I apologize. But do you think you could steer away from the sleepiness effect? I would prefer to remain clear headed.”

Jupiter shrugged. “I will do my best. Now hold still.”

***

The doctor released you later that day. When you arrived still unconscious after the flight, they wanted to keep you and make sure you woke up alright. Once you did (they also had to wait for Black to wake up after Jupiter knocked him out with a wallop of healing magic), they were more than happy to release you to Black with the promise that he would make you take it easy for a few days. Edge grinned as Jupiter irritably reminded Black that he needed to take it easy as well; the crack had healed some, but it was extremely important that he take it rest for a little while to make sure he did not end up losing his eyesight in that socket. You, Edge, and Mutt all promised that he would do so, then Edge led the three of you out to the parking lot where Stretch was waiting in the car. Stretch hated hospitals and, though he would have visited you, you texted him and told him not to worry about it; you’d see him at the house. He came along to pick you up, though. Black didn’t drive to the hospital himself (and even if he had, he wasn’t supposed to drive for a few days, and teleporting was also off the table), so he enlisted Edge and Stretch to pick you all up.

When Stretch saw you, he let out a little cry and pulled you into a backbreaking hug. Edge could see the tears rolling down his husband’s face as he buried his face in your shoulder. “You’re ok,” he said weakly.

“I’m okay,” you told him, your voice equally broken.

“You were missing for 42 hours,” he said. “We saw you go overboard. For 42 hours I thought…” he trailed off and tightened his hug even more.

“I’m okay,” you repeated, gently patting his back. You looked up at Edge helplessly, but he made no move to intervene. Stretch needed this, needed to feel that you were okay, and you were his best friend, so as far as Edge was concerned you could just stand there and take it. Eventually, Stretch pulled back and dried his eyes on his sweatshirt sleeve. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get you two home.”

You climbed into the backseat of the car and snuggled up against Sans, with Mutt on your other side. He wrapped his arm around you and you sighed happily. Edge watched in the rearview mirror to make sure that you all buckled in, then pulled out of the parking lot and drove you home.

***

The three of you all agreed that going to Black’s house was fine, which was great because Edge already knew that the rest of the family was there waiting for you. He knew that you were tired, but he hoped that you would also be glad to see the family. Everyone had worried about you, no one had slept while your team was one, and he knew that everyone needed to lay eyes on you before they would sleep well.

You let Black assist you in the house, which Edge thought was very big of you. Probably, you were both a little fragile right now, and touching kept the other close. At least, Edge knew that’s how he would feel if he experienced something similar with Stretch, a feeling that he never wanted to imagine, furthermore experience.

As soon as the door opened, a huge group of skeletons all yelled, “Surprise!” Everyone was there, including Jupiter who just got home from his shift, and Sans and Red, who both looked to be nearly asleep on their feet.

Edge laughed to himself when he saw Black summon and dismiss an attack. The three of you scanned the room with wide eyes. “Uh,” you said. “Hi guys.”

“‘Hi guys’?! That’s what you have to say?” Blue scolded. “You three were gone for nearly two days! You missed Thanksgiving! And you’re going with ‘hi guys’?”

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly. “We’re okay, though.”

“Tell that to your boyfriend’s skull!” he snapped. The small skeleton took a deep breath and one of your hands. “Come on, come in. We have food for you, and we selected a few movies. We are having a sleepover.”

“Blue, that’s very nice but--” Black tried, but Blue shot him a look that might have shaved some points off of his HP. He chose to shut his mouth and follow the two of you to the couch.

Blue settled the three wayward family members on the couch, arranging blankets and pillows around all of you. The instant he was done, Papyrus was shoving plates of Thanksgiving food into your hands. They were even personalized to who preferred which foods! The rest of the family arranged themselves around the living room, each eating their own little plates of food. Stretch chose to lean against the couch with his back by you and Black’s legs, probably still seeking closeness from you. Edge settled next to him and accepted his plate from Papyrus. He pulled Stretch into his arms and kissed his cheek softly.

“Now,” Blue announced, “we had to miss our normal Thanksgiving and Black Friday traditions, but we are starting a new one this year: the Great Leftover Movie Extravaganza!” Dutifully, all of the skeletons that had been left in the house with him applauded. Edge idly wondered what Blue said to make Mars agree to it. “We shall spend the evening of Movie Saturday watching everyone’s favorite movies and eating leftovers until we all fall asleep together!” More dutiful applause, though Stretch joined in this time, too. “This tradition is especially important because at least two of our compatriots have been ordered to rest and take it easy. We will all be working together to ensure that happens,” he finished with a pointed look at you and Black on the couch. You tried to smile at him (Black made no such attempt) but it was clear from the little skeleton’s hard stare that he would not be negotiated with on this point. You were going to be babysat for a while, it seemed.

The first movie started, and Edge found that he wasn’t paying any attention to it at all. His husband was asleep against him, his two best friends were quietly snuggling together, totally safe behind him, his brother and his collared were curled up together in a pile of pillows, both already sleeping too, and the rest of his family was here. They were safe, they were well-fed, and they were all together. It wasn’t the Thanksgiving that Edge expected or wanted, but he had to admit that he still had plenty to be thankful for.


	30. Car Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first and last times that Stretch got to ride in Ellie's little blue hatchback car, the one she had before the Jeep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of abuse, prejudice against monsters and humans, on-screen attack and manipulation by the abuser

“Brake! Brake, brake!” you yelped as Stretch steered your little hatchback towards a literal brick wall. 

“Shit!” Stretch yelled. “Sorry!” He finally got the little car stopped and looked over at you with a pretty orange blush. “I, uh, might not be a great driver.”

You looked over at him and pushed your hair out of your face with a sigh. “It just takes practice. You’ll get it.”

Stretch nodded and tried not to look completely miserable. The other skeletons all had their driver’s licenses even though they’d only been on the surface for a little over a month at this point. Well, everyone except Mars, but he was pretty clear that he didn’t want it. He pretended that it was because he was too lazy to bother, but Stretch was pretty sure he was worried he’d disassociate while driving. Honestly, it was damn cool of him to make the right decision like that.

Your phone buzzed for the tenth time since you started the driving lesson and Stretch couldn’t help but notice you got tenser with each new message you received. You were trying to act like you weren’t, but it was obvious if you knew what to look for, and Stretch prided himself in being a good judge of people.

“What’s, uh, goin’ on with your phone?” he asked cautiously. He didn’t know you well yet and didn’t want to overstep his bounds or anything. This was the first time that the two of you had ever hung out without the buffer of other skeletons around and, well, Stretch liked you. He wanted it to go well and he just hoped his dumb mouth and bad driving skills didn't put you off friendship with him forever.

You let out an irritated huff. “Oh, it’s Oliver. He’s being an asshole. It’s not a big deal.”

Stretch nodded and looked away. He didn’t have a lot of experience with datemate stuff. Well, actually, he had  _ no _ experience with datemate stuff. By his own admission, he was an easy lay back in Underswap (and would  _ love _ to be here, too, but these monsters were real fucking weird about it), but he didn’t really go for the whole relationship thing. Too messy, too easy to get hurt. Nah, good, clean, dirty sex was just fine for him, thanks.

Your phone buzzed again. “You wanna talk about it?” Stretch asked.

“Um…” you looked from the phone to the skeleton. “I dunno. Can you keep shit between us? I don’t need everyone knowing my business, especially not the rest of the team, ya dig?”

Stretch snorted. “If you’re asking me if I’m best buds with Black and gonna run tell him your secrets, the answer is a big ol' hell no. The only guy I know with a bigger stick up his ass is the Edgelord and I’m not interested in bein’ around either one of ‘em.”

You laughed a little. “I don’t mind Edge so much, but Inky is the literal worst.”

“He hates it when you call him that.”

“Why do you think I do it? He’s an asshole and could stand for more people to do shit he hates just to prove he’s not the boss of the whole damn universe.”

Stretch laughed at that. “You’re not wrong. Alright, well, spill. What’s up with your datemate?”

“Ugh,” you said. “He, uh, wants to know where I am and what I’m doing.”

“Why not just tell ‘im?”

You looked at Stretch apologetically and said, “Well… He’s a little overprotective. He, uh, he wouldn’t like me spending time alone with a dude.” You looked away and bit your lip.

“Or a monster,” Stretch said with disgust. He could see it written on your face.

“I told ya he’s an asshole. And he’s not a huge fan of my job.”

“Then why are you with him?” Stretch blurted out before he could think better of it.

You paused and looked down at your phone. “You know a bit about my parents, right? The whole ‘traitors to magekind’ and all that shit?”

Stretch nodded. For all of the centuries that monsters were in the Underground, your parents had been maligned as traitors to their kind. The story was that your parents helped alliumedes raise the barrier, that they betrayed monsters and mages alike. You were just a kid when all that went down, but from what Stretch understood, your community had treated you like an outcast after. ‘Course, after monsters were freed, ol’ Fluffybuns set the record straight--your parents were friends of monsterkind, struck down while trying to stop the barrier from going up--and your parents were officially pardoned, but the damage was done, so to speak. 

Someone saying sorry later doesn’t exactly change that you grew up all alone for a real long time. 

“Well, Oliver’s mom and dad are members of the Mage Council,” you said. “They’re really powerful, and they hated that Oliver was friends with me. But that didn’t stop him. He just… kept looking out for me my whole life. He kept tabs on me, made sure I was safe, even bailed me out of some sticky situations.” You looked down at your phone. “And… I kind of get why he doesn’t trust monsters yet. I mean, our whole lives we were told that monsters united with the alliumedes to try to wipe out the mages and humans, ya know? Obviously, that’s not true, we know that now, but it takes a little more than a couple of months to totally undo a lifetime of belief. I really think he’ll come around after a little while. He’s a good guy; he’s just really struggling with me taking a dangerous job with monsters as my backup.”

Well, shit, that did kind of make sense. And who was Stretch to judge, when he would rather eat his own femur than hang out with humans? He was basing his whole opinion on them on one fucking kid  _ ( _ _ the worst kid, so much dust, so many deaths _ _ ) _ and, even though he knew he would eventually have to deal with it, he certainly hadn’t yet.

Could he honestly say he’d be jazzed to find out Blue was running around with a bunch of humans without any monsters there just in case?

Stretch took a breath and said, “I can kinda get it. I mean, it’s not easy to trust new folks.”

You sighed like you were worried about his response and were relieved he wasn’t pissed. What did you think he was gonna do, start screaming at you and storm out of the car? Yeah, right. He had too few friends ( _ none, no friends, zero friends in this verse, older bros don't count _ ) to be trying to drive away the one he was tentatively making. “Right,” you said with relief palpable in your voice. “Well, I’m working on him. He’s not going to be allowed to keep feeling that way about monsters,” you told him with a smile. “Some of them are really cool.”

“Oh yeah?” Stretch asked with a grin. “Like who?”

“Oh, I dunno. Guess I’m just hoping to meet a cool one. You know, someday.”

He playfully smacked your arm and you laughed, but your phone buzzed again and your smile fell into a frown.

Stretch didn’t like that. He didn’t like it at all.

Then you dropped the phone onto the floorboard of the car and turned to Stretch. “Okay, let’s try again. This time, don’t steer towards the brick wall.”

Stretch nodded and put the car in drive. “You got it, boss.”

***

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," you admitted as you turned your little car down the road to your house.

"He's at work, right? You just need to get some things and then get out. It should be fine. Easy," Stretch reasoned.

You nodded and didn't say anything else. Stretch took a moment to observe you as you focused on the road. It had been barely a week since Black texted Edge to report that you were at his house severely injured by your datemate. Blue and Jupiter had done a few healing sessions with you since then, but you still had a brace on the arm you broke and he knew that your ribs were still wrapped under the loose t-shirt you were wearing. He'd seen the injuries before healing and he was fairly certain he wasn't the only skeleton that would happily murder Oliver if given the chance.

You were currently crashing on his couch, despite his insistence that they had a perfectly nice guestroom. The idea seemed to make you uncomfortable, so he just brought you every pillow and blanket in the house to make sure you were comfy and cozy on the couch. During your short stay, he noticed that you were wearing the same, like, two outfits over and over. When he asked you about it, you told him that was all you had; the rest of your stuff was back at the house with Oliver.

And that's how the two of you ended up on this mission. It was simple enough: retrieve some of your stuff so that you were more comfortable. Eventually, Stretch would convince you to let the skeletons go over and strong-arm Oliver into getting out of your damn house and your life, but for now, sneaking in and getting some stuff while he was at work was the best option.

You pulled into your driveway and left the car idling. Stretch's hand was on the door handle when his senses prickled: magic with intent incoming. You yelped as a blast of magic hit the hood of your car, grabbing onto Stretch and reflexively putting up a shield around the two of you. It was a good thing you did because another blast of magic broke the window next to Stretch's head.

"Fuck!" he yelled. He grabbed your arm and teleported you both to the grass on the opposite side of the car.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" an angry voice seethed, followed by another blast of magic. "I thought I was pretty clear about you coming back here!"

"Oliver, what--" you began, but he cut you off by firing more magic at you. Your shield held, thank the gods.

"And you bring one of those things here? How fucking dare you!"

"I just needed--"

"I don't give a shit why you're here! You left, so stay gone!" He called up another attack but didn't actually fire it. "Unless you've finally come to your senses? You ready to leave that job and let me take care of you?" Stretch shuddered at how quickly his voice switched from fury to a soft cooing. 

"No, I--"

"No?" He was right back to outrage, just that quickly. "So you're choosing them over me? Again? Fine! Then I guess they'll take care of you! You don't need this car that I bought you!" 

Stretch watched in horror as the mage spun on his heel and fired another attack into the car. Flames erupted from the hood, putrid black smoke billowing into the air. He glanced at you and saw that tears were streaming down your face as you watched the car burn, and Stretch felt a pang of guilt. You'd come here to get a few more of your things, but now you'd lost one of the few things that you still had.

Oliver looked at you and smirked. "See, babe, how hard it is out there without me? I know you miss me. Just come home! We'll get you another car, a better car."

You looked at him blankly. "If I ever see you again, it'll be too soon," you managed. You fumbled blindly and grabbed Stretch's hand.

Oliver let out a yowl of rage and fired another blast of magic in your direction. Stretch didn't wait to see if your shield held again; he just yanked you into the void. It took four teleports to get back to his house and Stretch was panting with exertion by the time the two of you staggered out of the last one. You both collapsed onto the floor of his living room. He took a few breaths, then looked over at you. You were curled up on the floor, shoulders shaking with silent tears.

He crawled over to you. "El? Are you ok?" he asked.

It took you a moment, but finally, you said, "Yeah, it's just... just a car. You okay? I'm so sorry he--"

Stretch hushed you and pulled you into a hug. "Don't apologize for anything that asshole does. Ever. You're ok, that's what's important." He stroked your hair gently. "And he was right about one thing: we will take care of you. Everything will be ok."

He continued to hold you until you cried yourself out, then the two of you relocated to the couch. You snuggled up under a blanket and curled up against him to watch some old episodes of that ghost show you liked. He wrapped one arm around you and pulled you in to lean against him. Neither of you said anything more as you watched TV, both lost in your own thoughts and taking comfort from the other.

Stretch did discreetly send a few texts, though. It was about time Oliver learned a lesson about messing with the skeleton family, and that included their mage.


	31. Back To Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans goes back to work after the Thanksgiving Incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last post of Comfortember! I've enjoyed it and I hope you have too!   
> There will be continued updates of Nightlights, at least once a week! When I'm on a roll there may be more than that. As always, thank you so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It means a lot to me!!!

Sans’s alarm went off  ~~ bright ~~ dark and early, just like it did every working day. It was unusual today, though, because his alarm had been turned off for a full week now. After the Thanksgiving debacle, Asgore insisted that Sans take a week off, stay at home with Mutt and you, and recover fully. Everyone was on pins and needles waiting to see if Sans’s eyesight would be permanently affected by his brand new skull crack, but he was fairly confident that not being allowed to do his damn job didn’t help with his eyesight. He could admit that the three of you had made good use of his time at home, but that didn’t stop him from rising with excitement when it was finally time to go to work.

You made a sleepily annoyed noise when he climbed out of bed, grumbling to yourself about losing your skeletal space heater, but he was much too anxious to begin his day to be drawn back to bed this morning. He quickly dressed in gym clothes, pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head (the only part of your head peeking out of the pile of blankets), and used the required three teleports to get to the Embassy from his house.

He stepped out of the void and into the quiet gym. No one else came this early except for himself, sometimes this world’s Undyne, and… Ah, yes. The door was opening to reveal his workout buddy even now. Edge walked in sipping from a water bottle and looking down at his phone. He wore basketball shorts and an orange tank top that Sans assumed was borrowed from his husband.

Sans was feeling feisty, so he flung a bone attack at him. There was no intent; he wasn’t trying to hurt the skeleton. He just wanted to remind him to be more aware of his surroundings. It turned out that the years away from Underfell hadn’t slowed his reflexes much. He wasn’t able to call up a shield to block it in time, but he did dive to the side to avoid it. “Oh,” he said, “is it that kind of morning then?”

Sans grinned and teleported out of the way when Edge lobbed his own bone attack towards him. He reappeared behind the taller skeleton and launched another bone attack, spinning out of the way as Edge summoned a bone club to smash the attacks. He leaped over the final row of bones and swung his weapon at Sans, but Sans was already on the other side of the room before Edge’s feet touched the ground, giving him the perfect opportunity to throw him off balance with a small bone attack sticking out of the floor where he landed. Edge grunted and hit the floor, turning the fall into a graceful roll instead.

“Wait,” he said, waving a hand in the air. Sans paused, a bone attack already called up, watching for this to be a trick of some sort, but Edge continued, “Wait. I’m concerned that I will accidentally hit your skull and exacerbate your injury.”

Sans rolled his eye lights. “Really? Because you haven’t landed a hit on me yet today.”

Edge smirked. “We both know it’s only a matter of time.”

“Do we know that?” Sans wondered.

“Either way, I am not going to be the one responsible for sending you back to the hospital or keeping you out of work another week. You should see the amount of paperwork in your inbox right now. Tripled my workload to not have you here!”

“You could’ve brought me some work to do. I believe I nearly begged you to,” Sans grumbled, but he finally dropped the summoned attacks and retrieved his own bottle of water. “What would you like to do today, then?”

“I thought some tai chi.”

Sans nodded. The two of them often did a tai chi routine that they found on YouTube when their LV was acting up. It helped calm and center them and, though Sans was thrilled to be back at work, he could also admit that his soul was a bit unsettled this morning. He knew that you were fully recovered, but he still wished that you were not going to be at your house alone all day. Perhaps he could get Mutt to check on you…

He fought to keep his mind focused on the fluid moves of the routine that they had both long since memorized. Neither of them talked, both focusing on whatever helped to calm their souls for the day ahead. Sans could try to guess at what Edge was thinking about, but he was perfectly content in the companionable silence. Even with his world's Alphys, Sans had never found anyone he trusted quite as much as he trusted Edge, save his own brother, of course. And even then, he trusted Edge to make difficult choices and do what it took to save those around him without getting killed himself, and Sans couldn’t say he totally trusted Mutt to do that. Mutt would always be his baby bones little bro, after all. Then there was you, of course, but that was a different kind of trust entirely, wasn’t it?

An hour later, Sans left Edge to finish his workout and shower at the Embassy and Sans teleported home to shower. He bipped directly into the bathroom and crawled into the warm shower, letting the water massage his bones pleasantly. He would never say it to any of you, but his skull truly did ache along the new crack. The warm water felt wonderful on his face and he spent a bit too long in the water.

When he returned to his room to dress, he was surprised to find that you’d vacated the bed. He narrowed his sockets at the mess of blankets, but he figured you must be somewhere in the house. He would likely bump into you before he left.

He dressed quickly and efficiently in a nice suit, expertly knotting a dark plum tie that you bought him for Gyftmas the year before. He slipped down the hallway in his stocking feet and pushed open Mutt’s door, dead set on making the skeleton eat some breakfast before he left. He was even more surprised to find that Mutt’s room was empty; Sans was sure that Mutt was at home last night. Was he actually up this early?

There was only one way to tell.

He padded down the stairs and heard talking and the smell of coffee and cooking before he even reached the first floor. He grinned to himself; his family had been located. He pushed his way into the kitchen and found Mutt standing over the stove listening to you talk.

“--And then you won’t believe what he learned this weekend!” you were saying, but you stopped when Sans entered the kitchen. Your whole face brightened when you saw him and he felt his soul swell at the happiness you showed every time he entered a room. You were still in your pajamas--one of his oversized sleep shirts and a pair of leggings--and your hair was mussed. You didn’t have any makeup on and you were clearly still sleepy. And you looked absolutely, breathtakingly gorgeous.

“Babe!” you said, hopping up from the table to bounce over to him. You gave him a quick kiss and then grabbed his hand and guided him to the table. “Mutt is making breakfast! And I got you coffee--” You paused and slid him a cup of what he knew would be perfectly prepared coffee-- “and here’s the morning paper.” You laid it out in front of him and grinned at him.

“What’s all this?” he asked happily.

“It’s your first day back and we wanted to send you off right!” you said.

“El wanted to send ya off right,” Mutt grumbled. “I wanted to sleep.”

“He means that he loves you very much and he hopes you have the very best day,” you said, shooting a warning look at the back of Mutt’s head. “ _ And _ he hopes you will remember the doctor’s instructions to take a break from using that eye. At least 15 minutes every two hours.”

“That’s a lot of things for that very short grumble my brother gave,” Sans pointed out.

“Well, you have to know how to read between the lines.”

Sans chuckled and leaned across the table to give you another kiss. “Well, I cannot do that right now. Don’t want to strain my eye lights,” he joked when you pulled back.

“You’re the worst,” you told him. “I can’t believe I’m in love with you.”

“I keep telling you,” Sans said. He moved the paper out of the way as Mutt slung a plate with three pancakes, eggs, and bacon all on it. “This looks wonderful. Thank you, brother.”

Mutt waved a hand at his gratitude. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks are nice, but they don’ give me back my sleep.” He sat a plate with the same food but a smaller portion in front of you, then claimed one for himself. He plopped down at the table and began eating.

The table was comfortably quiet for a while. Sans realized with gratefulness that you were restraining yourself so that he could read his paper. You were trying so hard to be so thoughtful… And there was nothing he wanted more than to have just a little more conversation with you before he had to leave. He sat the paper aside. “So what are your plans for today?” he asked.

He saw you eye the paper as if trying to figure out why he set it aside, but you answered the question, “Not much. Gonna work on some potions; I got an order for like a dozen sleep potions.”

Sans nodded. “What are your thoughts on dinner?”

“Pro,” Mutt said. “‘M pro dinner.”

“Believe me,” Sans said, “we know.”

“What sounds good to you?” you asked. “I can cook tonight so that you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Hmm… How about Thai?” he suggested.

You brightened; Thai food was one of your favorites. You spent a good amount of time living in Thailand some years ago and you deeply loved it still to this day. “That sounds perfect! I’ll pick up some mangos and we can have mangos and sticky rice to celebrate your first day back!”

“Sounds perfect,” he said. He glanced at his watch and knew that he needed to leave, but he found himself wishing he could stay here with the two of you. He was excited to return to work, to get back to being useful, but he just wished that he could also stay with the two of you.

He needed to leave before he decided to just stay here.

“Alright, I need to head to work,” Sans said.

“Sure,” you said, and was that hesitance he was seeing? What was the matter?

“Would, and you can say no to this if you don’t want to or are too busy, but would you like to come to lunch with me today? There’s a little deli near the Embassy that Edge recommended,” Sans said almost shyly. You just said you had work to do today; perhaps this was asking too much.

You stared at him for a second before looking away. “You sure? You’ve been so excited to go back to work. I, heh, I didn’t think you’d want me throwing off your groove. Thought you’d probably be sick of me by now.” He could hear the humor you tried to infuse into your voice, but he could also tell that you meant every word.

You really thought that he could be sick of you.

He walked around the table so that he could grab your shoulders gently. “Love, please believe me when I say that I think it is impossible for me to be sick of you. As far as throwing off my groove, you do that, but it’s in the best way possible.” He kissed your knuckles just to watch you blush, then continued talking. “I am excited to go back to work, but I honestly and deeply wish that it didn’t mean that I have to leave you two today. I would absolutely love it if you came to lunch with me. Please?”

You took a second to search his face for any signs of deception, and it was moments like this that made him hate your former datemate the most. There were constantly these tiny moments of you not being sure, worrying that he secretly didn’t like you as much as he claimed to.

Oh well. He had a lifetime with you to help you realize that you were literally his favorite person in the multiverse.

When you found no deception in his face, you smiled and kissed him again. Eventually, you pulled away and looked up at him. “Okay, I’ll be there. Go to work. I love you.”

He nuzzled your cheek then said, “I love you, too.” He glanced over at his brother and said, “I’m fairly neutral to you.”

Mutt flipped him off and said, “Don’t let your skull crack in half at work, ya bastard.”

Sans grinned a little to himself; that was practically a confession of love for the two of them. He picked up his paper, his travel thermos of coffee that you already prepped for him, and walked out the door with equal parts excitement and reluctance.


End file.
